Broken
by anonfangirling
Summary: Dan's girlfriend is cheating on him, then she dies in a car crash and the truth is revealed by Phil. Dan is heartbroken and is not sure he can trust anyone again, but then he meets someone who he can't help falling in love with. If you enjoyed, a review is always appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Phil's POV:

6th February 2013 10:30 am

The small box of Dark Liquor chocolates continued to knock more and more pronouncedly against my leg as I walked, the thin Tesco's carrier bag Dan had given me little to no protection from the irritatingly sharp corners of the little container. If only Dan hadn't had to go to that Radio 1 thing, then he could have gone on this little errand himself.

After all, Elle was his girlfriend. The thought of her instantly put a grimace on my face.

As much as I was happy for his very-much long-term relationship, I had to admit to my slight dislike of Elle… She was so different to me and Dan, although he seemed to adore her with every inch of his heart. When I'd asked them if they wanted to play Mario Kart on the first date – several years ago now – she'd looked at me as if I'd just been released from a mental asylum. Dan hadn't noticed of course, he'd just allowed her to drag him off to his room. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what had happened behind Dan's bedroom door that night.

That's all they ever seemed to do… Make out. Although it usually went a bit further than that at the best of times and I was always abandoned to play Mario Kart or Final Fantasy on my own in the lounge until they emerged the next morning, all dignity lost. I had become the Gooseberry and I hated it – and of course I blamed Elle; which was why I was reluctant to go giving boxes of chocolate to her on Dan's behalf.

I arrived at the entrance to her large white house that she shared with her extremely wealthy parents and immediately felt slightly daunted by the impressive black iron gates. Frowning, I tried to navigate my way to the catch and was about to push the oriental sheets of metal aside, when I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.

Elle was there, standing in the outside porch, enjoying the embrace of someone that definitely wasn't Dan. The embrace also definitely couldn't be classified as in the friend-zone. I could see the tall, muscular guy touching her in ways that I thought were reserved for Dan alone, and as I watched their lips meet in a very definite kiss. I'd never liked Elle, but I'd never have thought her to be a cheater… How could she finger that bloke like that knowing that only hours later she would undoubtedly be in bed with Dan – the thought made my head hurt.

'_Bitch_,' I muttered under my breath. Usually I would never swear, but Elle had stepped over the line. She'd betrayed Dan and that was not going to go unnoticed.

I knew what I had to do. Dan had to know about this – I couldn't watch this girl break Dan's heart without doing anything.

Hastily, I grabbed my IPhone out my pocket and took several photos, feeling weirdly guilty about what I was doing. But it was the good thing to do, right? If I didn't get evidence, Dan was unlikely to believe me – I'd tried to keep my dislike of his girlfriend a secret, but I was useless at keeping any emotions to myself. He would just think I was trying to get rid of her. If I was going to do this, I had to do it properly.

Deciding it was probably not an appropriate time to go and give Elle a box of expensive chocolates, I walked away from the house, trying not to sprint. Confusion and hurt raced through my brain - _How dare that bitch hurt my best friend like that?_

What bewildered me the most was that Elle actually had the nerve to go cheating so openly on Dan – he was practically an internet and radio celebrity. But then again, Dan was not exactly unattractive and millions of girls drooled over him day after day – Elle had started off like them, she'd been a very fortunate fan that had manipulated her way into Dan's head.

My original suspicions had been correct – Elle had only been in that relationship for one thing… It internally hurt me to think of Dan falling gullible and innocent into her trap, or more accurately, bed.

'Oh, hey Phil!' I jumped and spun around, shoving my IPhone in my pocket.

Elle was standing there on the pavement, the huge, well-built guy she'd been making out with obviously long gone. Her eyes were hiding that hurtful, sly, mockery that always felt its way into her expression when I was around. She had never liked me – she thought I was weird, I knew that much…

'Um, hi Elle.' I said, speaking in the flattest tone I could manage. The anger at the girl in front of me was desperately trying to break through my placid, slightly dead expression that I'd glued onto my face. I followed her gaze as she looked me up and down, her eyes demeaning as she noticed my odd socks.

Of course she wouldn't understand. She'd only ever been a fan of Dan's YouTube channel anyway. I grimaced, trying not to glare at her – it took all my strength not to grab her by the shoulders and demand the truth.

'Dan said he'd sent you over with a little gift more me?' she demanded smugly, her small delicate nose angled slightly upwards. I gritted my teeth. As well as being a lying, cheating two-timer she was also damn rude.

Silently, I willed myself to move and handed her the box of chocolates out of the carrier bag.

'Aw, cute.' She cooed, as if talking about a pet dog or kitten. 'Tell Dan I love him,' There it was; why hadn't I noticed it before? Her eyes were so layered with lies, no sincerity in sight as she spoke, her voice plastic and automated with fake delight.

I hated her.

But as she waved goodbye and stepped out into the road, my heart stopped. She hadn't seen it – the car was speeding towards her, the driver on his mobile phone, clearly not paying any attention to the traffic. I had to do something – I forgot all my bitterness towards her, I had to do something.

'Elle, LOOK OUT!' I yelled. But to no avail – it was jarringly inevitable. Everything blurred into slow-motion as the car slammed into her body and she was thrown like a paper doll under the wheels of the car. In those short, destructive seconds, everything was over.

Dan's POV:

6th February 2013 9pm

'Elle…' I whispered. My lips felt dry and my mouth as if it were full of sand – shock had clenched every muscle in my body together like a metal vice. The distant beeps from the heart monitor were slowing and depleting, leaving raw seconds of silence that felt like hours - hours of stinging, throbbing pain.

Elle's long, slim form lay slumped on the hospital bed, soft locks of reddish-brown hair clinging to the cold sweat that cloaked her forehead like a surreal mask in the unnatural lights that cut through the claggy air. The bruises from the accident still painted her cold white flesh in the memories of the accident that threw my world into chaos – if I'd gone to see her instead of going to that stupid Radio 1 meeting, her eyes would be open and neither of us would have had to go through the agony. Not that I cared about myself – I deserved this pain – but Elle… Sweet, beautiful Elle, how could this happen to her? She was so undeserving, innocent. It was my fault. I was the reason that the heart of my beautiful, perfect girlfriend was failing and falling away.

Another slow beep from the heart-monitor slammed me away from the cavern of thoughts. The line on the little screen was flat and the room was silent – a dead, yet thunderously loud stillness that bit into my sanity.

_This can't be happening; this can't be happening, this can't be happening –_

I could sense the nurses hurrying behind me, almost as if they were late for a booked appointment – a last minute rush before the end. Barely noticing as the tears began to streak my cheeks with cold salty water, I grabbed Elle's limp, lifeless shoulders and pulled her body against mine, feeling my heart pound against where hers should have been beating in unison. All I felt was emptiness - a knife digging away everything inside me with a raw determination that stung like salt on a wound.

In the distance my ears located strange, bloodcurdling cries, the sound chilling my shaking body before I realised… it was me…Crying. I buried my face in Elle's soft paprika and cinnamon hair, feeling the world around me collapsing into bitter, cold ruins.

There were no more beeps from the heart monitor.

_NO, SHE ISN'T DEAD, she mustn't be dead!_

Desperately, I willed Elle's arms to suddenly spring into life and pull me into an embrace – I wanted to be secure and safe in her arms again, I wanted the warmth of her lips to press against mine. It felt so wrong just holding her like this – a limp, motionless ragdoll.

But she wasn't dead – there had to be something to be done – she could still be saved, surely?!

I fought the panic in my head, trying to think properly. Forcing through the pain in my head, I lowered Elle's weak, lifeless body to the clinical white sheets on the sweat-soaked bed and before I knew what I was doing, I'd seized the nearest nurse's shoulders and was shaking her violently.

'Make her better, bring her back, bring her back to life!' I yelled, my voice cracking, tearing raggedly through the thick air.

'Sir, please calm yourself-' she began, trying to fight me off, but I couldn't stop, I had to bring Elle back, this couldn't be the end-

'Bring her back! I don't care; just bring her back to me…' I broke down into ragged, torn sobs that cut through my throat like small cheese-wires. I fell heavily to my knees, crying uncontrollably into my palms, rocking back and forth in my own black void of agony.

Then everything blacked out to inky unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil's POV:

Dan's breathing was slow and deep as he lay unconscious on the sofa, his face heavily shadowed in the pearly lilac light that was streaming through the window. I watched anxiously as his chest rose and fell, imagining with regret how in a few hours I was going to destroy his peace of mind with the three photos I had on my IPhone. He'd already been mentally drained by the death of Elle – and if I was honest, so was I.

As much as I'd disliked Elle, I hated the fact that she'd just… died… In a weird way I sort of missed her. She'd been part of mine and Dan's life for so long now, it was like a hole had been ripped through the centre of everything and the seams that held normality together were falling apart.

I could already see traces of the sunrise hovering above the city horizon outside, dusting the floorboards with hazy lavender light. It hurt me to realise that by the time the sun had fully risen, Dan would be awake and his life would be turned upside down. Not only had his girlfriend been killed, she'd also been cheating on him and the love he'd thought he shared with her… it had all been a lie. A horrible, dirty lie.

Dan had been through so many failed relationships in the past it made my eyes sting with tears, imagining the crushing sadness he was about to go through… He would blame himself; I knew it. Although, if I was honest, I was sure it was my fault that Elle's body was alone in the mortuary, her heart no longer beating.

If I'd gone out into the road and pulled her from the car's path, none of this would have happened. But I'd panicked, I wasn't brave or courageous like other people in situations like that, I'd just stood and watched as her body was flung across the road like a ragdoll, paralyzed. I didn't know how I was going to explain the situation to Dan when he awoke…

He would hate me when I showed him the photos; he would blame it all on me that I hadn't run out into the road to save his girlfriend… I felt tears sting my eyes, but I forced them away. I had to stay strong, not for myself, but for Dan. He was going to need every bit of support he could get for the next few months before he could even contemplate moving on.

After ten long minutes of black thoughts, Dan's eyelids flickered and his breathing pattern shifted. I inhaled, preparing myself for the worst.

Dan's POV:

Blinding pain hit my head like a wall as a blank canvas of grey-ish white swam blurrily into focus before my eyes. I felt lightheaded and drained of my life force, as if someone had sucked out all my energy and replaced it with dull grey paint – even my eyelids felt heavy and thick as I forced them up.

For a second I didn't know where I was and using the last dregs of energy I had left I sat up, the space around me blotchy and cloudy through my exhausted vision.

_Phil._

I could see him sitting weirdly upright in the armchair, his hands clutching around something that gave off a surreal white glow… Oh, it was his IPhone. Why was he here, in the lounge, watching me so intently? Why was I in the lounge? Why was it so dark? I felt confused, my short term memory weirdly blurred and muddled. Faces, pictures, images flashed through my head at an alarming rate; events I had no memory of, actions I didn't remember carrying out – then a softly blurred image of a girl with poppy-red cinnamon hair hit my mind like a wall of pure shock.

_Elle._

How had I forgotten – Elle, my girlfriend was…was…

I couldn't say it, I couldn't even think it, the truth stung too badly to confront. I felt something hot and wet slip silently down my cheek and onto my lips.

_Don't cry – not in front of Phil, don't cry, you bitch!_

'Phil,' I choked, the lump in my throat making it almost impossible to speak. 'Where's…Elle?'

I knew the answer, but maybe I'd just imagined it? Maybe I was being stupid and had just woken up from a particularly vivid nightmare, maybe it was all imagined. In just a few hours I could go over to Elle's house and once more be safe in her arms – I would take her out, buy her Starbucks – we would walk to the park and lie back in the grass, just like we always did. I wanted so desperately to feel Elle's lips enveloping mine in a kiss, I wanted to feel her hands on my chest; I wanted to feel her heart beating against mine… I wanted her so much it hurt; a deep, ripping pain that tore through my chest like a knife.

'Um Dan, don't you remember what happened?' Phil mumbled.

So it was real. My Elle, my beautiful Elle was… gone. I felt empty and cold as if someone had just tipped a bucket of cold water over my face.

I would never see her again.

I would never feel the warmth of her skin, the beat of her heart. She was… No, no, it couldn't be true.

'But… No, Phil, she can't be…' I could feel tears scarring my cheeks with hot salty water and my voice wavered unsteadily. I stared desperately at him, willing him to tell me everything was okay; I wanted him to tell me that she was alive, that she was waiting for me to ring her, but he just sat there, looking right back at me, his eyes filled with the cold burden of reality. 'I want… I need her with me.' I sobbed and instantly winced. My voice sounded so alien, so broken and raw.

Phil grimaced and stood up. He came over and sat down next to me on the sofa and I felt the warmth of his arm slip supportively around my shoulders. Despite the warmth of his presence next to me, I still felt helplessly, unbearably alone, trapped in my own scorching agony.

Phil's POV:

The IPhone seemed to burn a hole in my skin as it sat waiting in my trouser pocket, as if taunting me, reminding me of the pain I was about to deliver to my already destroyed best friend. I could almost feel the photos, smell the hurt that they radiated off like poison – I didn't know what to do… Dan was crying so openly now, his sobs fraught with pain. I could feel his whole body shaking as he cried into my shoulder, his tears soaking the sleeve of my jumper, wet and cold against my skin.

As the rising sun soaked the room with more and more biting white light, Dan's sobs became so distressed and agonised that I had to pull him into a hug. I hated seeing him like this, it almost hurt me as much as it hurt him – I dreaded to think what the photos would do to him… How was I supposed to tell him? He was already clinging to me like a child would their mother; there was so much desperation in his tight, almost pleading embrace that I felt tears sting my eyes again.

This was so wrong.

I'd never seen Dan break down like this before. He'd been wallowing in his own tears for hours and the grief he was suffering was showing no signs of relieving him.

I began to hate myself and what I'd done – or rather what I'd failed at doing.

If I'd jumped out into the road and saved Elle, then Dan would be his normal, happy, (if extraordinarily cheeky) self.

But no, I reminded myself, he wouldn't, because Elle's love for him was purely a thick web of lies – the truth of her would have been revealed whether the car had hit her or not… There was no escape from the reality of the situation. Either way, Dan would still be sobbing uncontrollably into my shoulder.

Finally, he fell into an empty, dead silence that seemed to haunt his face with a pale, almost ghostly pallor. The only colour remaining in his almost lifeless face was the soft pink of his lips – even his eyes had turned a dark, watery black that I wouldn't deny, haunted me somewhat.

He just sat, staring into the air, barely blinking or moving – I had to double check to see if he was breathing – he was, thank god.

'Do you want any water or anything?' I asked, my voice cutting through the heavy silence like a wire through clay.

Dan shrugged and let his head fall into his palms. 'Everything was so perfect…' he began. 'How could it all go wrong, what did she do to deserve that – why did it have to happen to _her_.'

I didn't say anything – I didn't know what to do, he seemed so helpless, vulnerable. But as I looked across at him and once again saw the pain and anguish in his eyes, I knew I had to show him the photos, he couldn't remain so agonizingly oblivious any longer.


	3. Chapter 3

Phil's POV:

'YOU PHOTOSHOPPED IT!' Dan shouted. I cowered backwards into the wall, wincing at his tone. 'How could you?! You've never FUCKING LIKED HER, and now you go and watch as she goes under the fricking wheels of a fricking car – I thought you were my friend, Phil!'

Violently, he threw my IPhone onto the sofa and I watched silently, feeling any sense of security slipping away.

He hated me; I could see the anger boiling over in his eyes, mixing with the crushing sadness he was enduring. What had I been thinking, showing him those photos only hours after the horrific incident itself – but what else could I have done? I couldn't let him cry over someone that wasn't worth a penny, let alone his agonizing grief.

'Dan, I'm sorry – I didn't do anything to the photos…' I mumbled, my voice pathetic and fragile in comparison to his, the anger spilling over inside him.

Almost resembling a little child, Dan stamped down on the floorboards, making the CD rack quiver. Not that I particularly cared anymore – he hated me, that was all I could think of, Dan hated me.

'I don't give a fuck about the fucking photos, they're fake anyway – what I care about is that you stood pathetically whilst my… my life got smashed under a motherfucking car! You fricking bastard, why didn't you save her? Do you have any fucking idea what I feel like right now?'

I wanted to protest – I hadn't meant to stand by and watch Elle fall under the wheels of the car – it happened all too quickly for my brain to connect with what was going on, and what I had to do. But Dan's words stung me too much for any of those words to come out.

'I'm sorry Dan, I couldn't do anything, and I swear, if I could have helped her, I would have done – I hate seeing you this way…'

Dan glowered at me, his eyes burning under his dark brows. I suddenly felt scared – very scared – as Dan's muscles flexed in his arms. He wouldn't…No, he wouldn't hurt me would he? Fear and betrayal raced through my veins like wildfire – I didn't want this, this was so wrong-

'I'm sorry Dan, I'm really sorry!' I cried, feeling a lump form in my throat.

Dan's face was contorted with a confusion of pain and anger and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me – but he just looked at me one last time, a strange, haunted look lingering in his eyes, before storming out of the lounge.

I heard his bedroom door slam and felt my legs buckle. I fell weakly onto the sofa and curled up, wishing the ground would swallow me.

Dan's POV:

More tears were falling down my face again – I couldn't stop them, neither could I stop the loud, raw sobs that were escaping my lips. Guilt was forming in my head; I'd been so unkind to Phil, I hated seeing him so nervous and unhappy.

After all, maybe the photos he'd shown me were real.

But how could they? Elle would never have cheated on me, she loved me, I loved her – continued to love her… A wave of doubt left me unbalanced and I crawled under the covers of my bed, wishing she was there with me.

The image of Elle in the arms of that other guy flashed through my head and suddenly every muscle in my body hurt. What if I hadn't been the only one? What if she'd been sleeping with another guy whilst pretending to love me?

_She's gone, what does it matter?_

I hated myself as soon as the thought passed through my head; of course it mattered – Elle had been my world for years – I couldn't just forget her. But the reality that Phil had been so adamant about was filling me with doubt and an unnerving sense of insecurity – I fought with my brain, trying to think straight.

But despite all the uncertainties I was feeling, I was certain that I had loved Elle – still loved her, even now, my affections for her stretching past the unsettling revelations that had come to light.

The revelations might not even be true.

_But would Phil really lie to you about something that important? Phil just doesn't lie, ever._

I groaned silently, burying my face in the bed clothes, wishing the thoughts would disappear.

Hours drifted into minutes that faded into seconds as I lay face down, staring into the blackness of my sheets, feeling so incredibly, undeniably alone. The awful truth, I'd realised, was that I could trust no one – not anymore. Even Elle, my beautiful, seemingly loyal Elle, conceivably had a darker, cheating side to her sweet personality.

And Phil... I'd shouted at him so horribly. I was such a bastard.

The agonizing pain of betrayal continued until the light outside my cocoon of duvets and pillows faded into an unforgiving blackness that I vaguely registered as the end of the day.

Exactly one day since Elle's heart had stopped beating.


	4. Chapter 4

_Authors note: Hey guys, just thought I'd say, I know Dan and Phil live in London now, but for the purposes of this fanfic, I think it would be more suitable if they lived in their flat in Manchester… You'll see why in the next few chapters I'm thinking. But anyway, hope you are enjoying this so far, tell me what you think in the reviews, it really helps me out to know what people like or dislike about my work so that I can improve it and make it more readable._

_So all reviews are kindly regarded – seriously, even if it's a complaint, just write it._

_Enjoy!_

_~Anonfangirling xoxo_

Dan's POV:

Sirens woke me up from my numbly dreamless sleep, and for a few minutes I drifted in and out of consciousness wishing the noises of Manchester would go away.

Well, not just Manchester, the whole world.

As the siren's faded, I tried to summon the willpower and the energy to sit up, but the bottomless grief from the day before weighed down my limbs with the same dark, heavy dejection that tugged at my eyelids as I tried to force them open.

Cold sweat coated my face like a strange mask and it clung to the bedclothes around me as I propelled myself out of the tangle of sheets I'd isolated myself in.

A hesitant, almost timid knock on the door froze me in my tracks.

When I didn't answer, I heard Phil shuffle anxiously outside, ruffling the carpet with his feet. 'Um Dan, are you awake?' he asked. I could hear the undeserved guilt weighing down his voice and immediately I felt a rush of regret.

But I still didn't answer… He didn't deserve to be hurt by me again.

'Do you want any cereal?'

I buried myself under the covers again – I couldn't eat – how could I just slip back into daily life like that? Elle was… was _gone_.

How could I go back to normality without her there with me?

Phil's POV:

Dan had ignored me… of course.

He was still angry at me – and grief wasn't exactly small in the equation either. After the resounding silence I'd received from him, I didn't feel like eating any breakfast – it felt wrong to treat myself to anything that technically belonged to him. Maybe he'd come and eat something later, and then I could allow myself to eat something too.

But I sort of doubted that was going to happen.

The flat was plunged into a dead, lonely silence for the rest of the day until the clock on my IPhone told me it was 11pm. Dan was still in his room, ignoring me.

He hadn't eaten for hours – days – he was going to get ill if I didn't force him to eat something at some point. I had to intervene.

I went into the kitchen and began to prepare some food, trying not to think too hard. With a start, I realised my hands were shaking as I opened the fridge. I shook my head, trying to clear away the worries.

Blundering through the seconds of monotonous food-preparation, I couldn't help but notice that the only vaguely good knife for chopping vegetables was missing, which made it difficult chopping the ingredients for the meal with a very poor blade that seemed intent on cutting my fingers. That was particularly likely to happen because it wasn't like I could concentrate at all.

I finished making lunch and breathing in heavily, I went to get Dan – he had to eat – he'd starve otherwise and I couldn't let that happen.

I knocked on the door.

No answer… Still. Worry branded itself into my brain and I twisted a small tuft of my hair around my forefinger. Was he asleep? Was he ignoring me?

_Oh my god, what if he's dead?_

_SHUT UP PHIL._

For a few seconds I leant my head against the door, trying to find the courage in myself to enter the room without crying. Surely he wouldn't still be ignoring me? I closed my eyes. My chest felt taught and strained and a lump was forming in my throat again.

_Just go in, stupid. Dan's fine._

That was one of the many things I had doubts about.

Finally, I convinced myself to open the door and-

I screamed… almost. Dan's limp body was sprawled over the bed, the bedclothes drenched with a huge deep crimson stain that came… came from his wrist.

His arm was hanging limply across the blood-soaked sheets, deep purple and scarlet lines gouged into the skin, the knife that had been missing from the kitchen clutched in his white fingers.

Panic fired through every vein in my body and I dived down onto the floor, feeling tears boiling over in my eyes, stinging, hurting, and falling into his cuts. I grabbed his arm and sobbed desperately over it – how could he do this to himself?

He'd never been like this before – it was entirely my fault – my fault that his blood was staining the sheets like a death-mask.

Dark, clotted red was still escaping from the slits on his wrists, sliding over my fingers and mixing with the tears that were streaming down my face.

_Wake up, wake up!_

I shook his lifeless body, desperate to see the warm brown chocolate that lay in his irises smiling into mine.

'Dan, open your eyes, come back!' I shouted, feeling his shallow breathing cast warmth over my face.

He was alive… Thank god. But how badly hurt was he? I didn't want to know what damage those cuts had done to his body – they were so real – so red and ugly.

'Dan, wake up!'

Noticing again the scarlet-stained knife in his fingers, I grabbed it and threw it furiously as the wall. It lodged itself in the plaster, scattering tiny pinpricks of red over the white paint.

A soft moan snapped my attention away from the haunting sight on the wall and back to Dan. His eyelids were flickering and he was breathing shortly, heavily – panting for air as if he'd been starved of it underwater. I flinched through my tears as he tried to move his arm and cried out in pain. Why had he done this to himself? What had he been _thinking_?

'Dan, what the fuck were you doing?'

He didn't respond for a few seconds, seeming confused and dazed by the world around him.

'Phil…' he mumbled. 'Ow. My arm hurts.'

I gritted my teeth. 'You were cutting it you bloody idiot – that's why it damn hurts!'

'I was… I did.' he whispered, a rush of pain and denial filling his eyes.

It pained me to see him like this – a quivering, blood-soaked ruin bearing nothing but overpowering sadness on his shoulders. I missed his smile, the way his eyes lit up when he was happy.

_I may never see that smile again._

'You're crying,' he said, a strange dreamy look of confusion passing over his face.

'I thought you were… Look, Dan, you're covered in blood and you've got a very injured arm – you need a bandage.' I said, trying to pull myself together and keep my voice steady.

'Don't… want one.' he rasped, his voice constricted with the pain.

'I'm not watching you bleed to death!' I snapped.

He laughed, lightheaded with agony. The sound that escaped his lips was strange and distant, a faint echo of his usual self. 'Phil, don't be…so melodramatic… It's only a few little cuts.'

I ignored him, proceeding to help him remove his blood-saturated t-shirt, my hands soaked in dark, scarlet blood.

This new Dan haunted me – he seemed so distant and shadowed; a black and white photo of his old self – a ghost. I didn't like the way his eyes were bound with black coils of fresh, undiluted pain and the white pallid tone that had crawled over his skin.

Even his chest was a strange violet-white colour – the colour of someone who'd been standing outside for too long on a cold morning. He looked like a ghost, to say the least.

As he tried to sit up, cold beads of sweat broke out over his face and shoulders and it almost hurt to watch the physical and mental pain he was enduring torture him further.

I wanted it to end. I wanted our lives to rewind to the times when he was happy, smiling… well, just being Dan.


	5. Chapter 5

Phil's POV:

'Why did you do it?' I asked carefully.

Dan was half-sitting, half-lying in bed, reluctantly eating the soup I'd cooked for him

He shrugged, ignoring the question with obvious deliberation. For a few seconds I watched him eat, his hand movements shaky and uncertain as he meandered spoonful after spoonful of soup to his mouth.

Deliberately, he avoided my eyes, controlling his gaze across the opposite side of the room, pretending that I'd never spoken.

'Jesus Christ, Dan, you can't just cut yourself to ribbons and not tell me why?!' I cried desperately, anger poisoning my voice.

Dan pushed the soup away. 'I don't know,' he muttered, his dark tone slicing through the air like the knife that remained jammed into the wall; a horrifyingly constant reminder of what was under the bandage on his arm.

He glowered at the space in front of him, but despite the anger and sulkiness I could almost feel his grief in the air - both physical and mental. It was painfully obvious how much he missed Elle, and I hated the fact now that I hadn't bothered to try and be on good terms with her when she was alive and her heart was beating.

'I miss her,' Dan mumbled quietly after a few tense moments of silence.

'I know.'

A sharp knock abruptly rang in the silence, resonating from the door of the apartment. Dan's eyes widened and he cowered back into the bedclothes, suddenly looking a lot younger.

'I'll go,' I said. 'It'll be fine, I'll just tell whoever it is you're not well or something…'

Dan gulped and nodded, glancing pointedly at his bandaged arm.

As I stood up, I had a sudden urge to pull him into a hug – he looked so alone and helpless, a weak, breakable fragment of his old self, only tiny parts of his personality leaking through in the cold, rabid form of fear.

Our eyes locked for a second and we both grimaced at the prospect of whoever was waiting outside.

**Dan's POV:**

I heard the high pitched cry of the hinges as Phil opened the door, making every muscle in my body clench tight as I waited with baited breath to try and work out who it was.

Voices resounded through the house – I recognised only Phil's, but then again, my memory wasn't exactly functioning properly at the moment.

The snippets of conversation I caught were very vague, quiet and dulled, the words inaudible, even in the silence. I didn't want anyone to see me like this – not now. What would they think, how would I explain the bandages?

I heard the voices fade and the door close. I choked out a sigh of relief. Phil's footsteps stopped outside the door and it creaked open. He looked solemn – well, more solemn than before anyway, and was holding a brownish red rose that was much wilted and dry, long since gone over, in his fingertips. It was tied to a roll of slightly crumpled white note paper that seemed foreboding even from the outset.

Phil swallowed through clenched teeth and sat down on the corner of my bed, grimacing darkly.

I stared, confused, at the withered rose, my heart hammering. A sense of deja-vou hit my head like a wall of fire.

Suddenly I was in America again, the hot rays of evening sunlight shimmering over the crowd at Playlist Live 2009. I could smell the soft aura of the city, the different varying scents of perfume and the warm traces of food in the air. Phil was stood next to me, his hair slightly longer than I remembered – of course he'd been about to get a haircut when he arrived back at London – and he was signing the t-shirts of a group of girls.

I remembered them – they'd liked My Chemical Romance – but it was the girl behind them that had grabbed my full attention.

Dark, crimson hair fell around her china-doll complexion – she'd looked just like she'd escaped from a magazine. She'd instantly struck me as perfect…

Well, she was.

She was one of those people that you had to look twice at, just to capture every detail of them for your own pleasure. She was the only girl in the crowd that caught my eye; the only really attractive girl that hadn't exploded a bottle of foundation and eyeliner over themselves. She was the only one with pure, natural beauty, which seemed to push through her light makeup, dragging my eyes towards hers.

As if her facial beauty wasn't enough, her figure was also stunning…

I remembered that I'd been staring wordless at her for at least twenty seconds before Phil had nudged me and I'd drifted back into action.

She'd had an almost musical voice, soft and gentle, yet it somehow seemed to emerge from her lips above everyone else's, the only voice that I could listen to and properly _enjoy_.

Then she'd… she'd given me a freshly picked, crimson rose.

_Of course she had, how had I forgotten?_

After I had the rose safely in my fingertips, she'd kissed me lightly on the cheek. Despite the fact I'd only just met her, I didn't mind; that was to be the first kiss of many…

'Um, Dan, are you alright?'

Abruptly, I was no longer in the warm March air of America, but back in the slightly heavy, dejected air of my bedroom… Without Elle.

My head was throbbing excruciatingly, I realised, alongside the slashes of pain that were cut into my arm. The memory made my eyes begin to water and I fell back into the bed, feeling the area behind my eyes pulse and burn as if a torch was being shone directly into my face.

I moaned quietly, wishing the pain would leave me alone.

Phil's hand rested on my shoulder. 'Dan?'

Unsteadily, I forced my eyes open, only just noticing that they'd fallen shut. 'Sorry. My head hurts.' I mumbled. As I spoke, I did a double take. My voice sounded weird and breakable, slightly high pitched and cold like frozen china. I didn't like it.

'Do you want me to come back later and give you the letter, or- '

'No!' I interrupted. I couldn't wait… The letter, it reminded me so much of the first time I'd met Elle that I just had to see what it said – who had written it? How did they know…about the rose? 'Who was it, Phil? Who was at the door?'

Phil's eyes seemed to channel perfectly the anxiety and confusion I was feeling as he handed me the rose and the letter. 'It was… it was Elle's Mum. She said that before the, um… accident, Elle had written this for you.'

I nodded softly, trying not to crinkle the brittle rose petals under my shaking fingers, and opened the letter, my head pounding.

_Dearest Dan,_

_I understand that this news will come as a huge shock, but I'm leaving for Barcelona tomorrow… with my fiancé Tom. I'm sorry, I appreciate how deceitful I was, seeing someone behind your back, but I think it was time our relationship came to a stop. It was never real love – I know that now, and I hope you understand my decision and why I made it._

_I will never regret meeting you all those years ago at Playlist. I have always loved you – will always love you, but it's not real, true love. I know that now, now that I've met Tom. I've realised that both you and I would be better off without each other – I'm sure you will find someone worthy to take my undeserved place in your life._

_Please, don't hate me! I feel so guilty, but I think its better this way. I enclosed the necklace that you bought for me – I hardly deserve to wear it, as the love I felt for you was never quite true._

_Please find someone better than me – you deserve better – and give them this necklace. Tell them, show them how much you love them – just as you did for me, but this time don't let them break your heart like I have._

_I will miss you,_

_And I will always love you – but just in a 'friend' way._

_Elle_

_x_


	6. Chapter 6

**Dan's POV:**

It was weird… I'd sort of known that Phil had been telling the truth, so the letter didn't really come as too much of a shock. But to have Elle actually admit to me, that she…she didn't love me, had never loved me…

That hurt – so much that I couldn't even cry. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, I was paralysed, my eyes staring into the faint sun that bounced off the dust clouds in the room. Phil's voice pleaded with me, begging me to respond, but I couldn't.

The letter had gouged a huge hole in my chest – in everything – and I could feel the bitter tastes of loss and betrayal in my mouth.

I'd loved her so…so much; and all the time she'd been hurting me, betraying me, cheating on me behind my back, pretending to love me.

_How could she do that to me…?_

'Dan, let me read the letter!' I heard Phil beg, his voice riddled with worry. I tried to speak but my lips just formed blank sheets of silence, trapping me in my thoughts, unable to escape from the hurt that was swallowing and chewing down every inch of sanity I had left.

Phil grabbed my shoulders and shook me frenziedly, in a sort of blurred way I noticed how scared he was. Scared of _me_?

I wanted to comfort him, tell him that I was fine, but I couldn't… it would be a lie anyway. My vision began to swim and run like a watercolour painting in the rain and I felt my conscience begin to drift away. With a last colourful flash of noise, my hearing blacked out and I was trapped in my own grim silence.

Unable to fight the urge, I felt my eyelids fall shut and everything slammed into a wall of black.

I was standing in a room – a church – the walls were lined with bright bouquets of pink honeysuckle and lilies, filling the large, slightly cold space with the pronounced scent of pollen and foliage. After a few moments of standing, feeling weirdly alone and cold in the empty church, I realised suddenly that my whole body posture felt wrong.

My feet were pressed against something hard and my neck was trapped in something that resembled cardboard. I looked down, my actions somehow blurred and blossoming into pearly white clouds and smudges; I was wearing an uncomfortably tight black suite, the cardboard thing across my neck the collar, and the hard, cold things on my feet a pair of glossy leather shoes.

This was weird – I never dressed up in this way – what was I doing here? It felt so wrong and unnatural. I wanted to get out – but I couldn't move, my shoes stuck my unwilling feet to the cold granite-like stone flagstones that filled the space between the spindly rows of wooden pews.

'Daniel, do you take Eleanor Julia Bayliss as your wife?'

I twisted round, my feet still refusing to co-operate with my desperate thoughts. A vicar – obviously a vicar – stood behind me, his face a little too flawless and cheerful to be sincere. I wanted to run – what was this? Some sort of sick joke? Why was I here? I didn't want to marry Elle, not any more…

_But I do, I want her so badly. I love her –_

_She betrayed you._

_I love her._

'Let me go!' I shouted, but my voice emerged as a frantic silence.

Suddenly I felt fingers dig into the skin on my shoulder, slicing over the black satin of my suit. Elle – I could sense it was her, I could smell the perfume.

'You don't love me?' she asked. I looked down at her. She looked…she looked perfect.

Long tresses of white gossamer fell around her face like translucent quartz and a long, fluid dress, the colour of freshly fallen snow fell around her figure like a river of clouds.

I wanted her more than ever.

Forgetting everything I seized her waist, desperately tangling my lips with hers, pulling her closer, closer…

Then…she pulled away.

'I'm sorry…' she mumbled. 'But, I don't love you.'

I froze again, frost creeping up my spine like a glacier.

'Goodbye Dan.'

I resurfaced to reality in a violently cold sweat, my hair clinging to my forehead and my head spinning with confusion and fear.

Briefly, in a muddle of drowsiness I swept my gaze hurriedly around, trying to find Elle and the vicar, but… it was only Phil, sprawled asleep on the side of the bed, breathing deeply.

_It was just a nightmare, you twat._

I remembered the letter, the words that had ended my world in the flick of a pen. Tears began to sweep across my eyes, glazing them over with a thin layer of liquid. I blinked. The pain in my head and chest was almost too much to deal with – I could feel every organ and muscle crying out in anguish, just as I was, but no one could hear.

_I… need a way out. I need the knife._

Trying not to disturb Phil from his sleep, I stood up weakly, my vision swaying and swimming like a hallucination. The knife was embedded in the wall – I didn't want to know how it had got there. I had to reach it; it was my way out – my only way out…

Swimming through a thick swamp of exhaustion and pain, I staggered towards the knife, watching as the blade inched close and closer towards me. It glittered faintly under the dark brownish red stains of my own blood and I suddenly felt very faint.

Hesitating, I looked woozily backward at Phil's slumped body lopsided on the bed; his hair flopped over both his eyes. In any other situation, I would have laughed… But even a smile was impossible now. The small portion of his face that was visible under his hair was creased in a mask of worry, filling me with a dark sense of guilt – I'd hurt him so much over the past few days.

Even the most oblivious stranger could have seen the pain that enveloped his features. Small tears stung my eyes – I couldn't hurt him again, could I?

There was surely another way of saving my best friend another dose of torment, wasn't there? Well… I couldn't, surely. No, that would hurt him even more – you would never see him again.

_But the pain would fade… He would move on. If you… went now, then… it's early enough for him to make a new best friend, find a new flatmate - a better flatmate, more reliable flatmate that didn't put him through agony like you do._

I looked around at my room, sadness crushing in on me in a wave of claustrophobia. My eyes drifted to knife in the wall, then Phil, then the letter.

_I don't want to go._

A weird sense of homesickness began to chisel away at my conscience. The last time I would stand on this carpet, the last video I would ever make I'd made a week and a half ago – the last time I would ever see Phil – the last thing I'd said to him… I didn't even remember.

What would my parents think? They would be so unhappy – the thought stung critically and the throbbing in my head began to meander through memories that I'd had no idea existed - me and my Mum, me and my Dad…. Me and Phil.

_I have to do it._

Tearing a page from my diary, I loosely grabbed a pen, my fingers shaking with fear and cold anticipation. I addressed the letter to Phil, my handwriting scrawled and shaky.

Silently crying, I pressed the note to my lips, squeezing my eyes as tightly shut as I could, wishing I could wake up from this hideous nightmare. As carefully as I could, I slipped the paper into Phil's limp fingers and took one last look at my bedroom.

One last look at Phil.

Then, barely thinking about what I was doing, I took my camera, and holding it, tears falling down my cheeks, I recorded my last words.

The time it took for me to reach the lounge passed in a numb blur of half-movements. Everything around me felt dead, and as I dazedly opened the catch on the balcony windows, the faint sounds of traffic flooded in with a rush of cold air.

Fresh, Manchester air whipped over my bare chest. I remembered I was only wearing my jeans – on a normal day I would have been irritated by the cold, but today… Well, it was the last time I'd feel any kind of weather on my skin. The cold air might as well assist in ending it all.

I looked down; the snaking streets below were so tiny they might as well have been made of Lego. That was far enough down, surely… I couldn't possibly fall that far and make it out breathing with a beating heart.

_I was to…to die on the road; just like Elle._

It was a sort of clichéd ending, but what did it matter…

Shaking violently, I raised my left foot onto the railing. Cold air rushed around me, bringing Goosebumps up on my chest and arms – drying away the layers of dank sweat that clung to my skin like wet cotton. My second foot seemed raise itself on its own accord, my brain activity minimal and slow – a tape recording coming to an end.

Suddenly, I was balancing on the second bar from the top of the railing, the whole of Manchester stretching out below me like a printed map, crawling with ant-sized cars and buildings.

Then something broke my thought process completely; a flash of bright blue – electric, violently unnatural, highlighter blue in the corner of my eye.

_What does it matter? Just do it. You won't feel anything and the pain will end._

'Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Oh my god – Danisnotonfire – what the actual fucking hell – get the fuck off that fricking railing right now – Jesus fucking Christ, you're giving me a heart attack!'

Desperately trying to ignore the voice that seemed to originate from the lurid flash of blue from the corner of my eye, I tried not to lose my balance. The voice was a girl – my exhausted, drained ears could pick up that much. A very pissed off, scared girl, who was apparently very, very, blue.

With a slight jerk, I nearly lost my position and I felt myself slip away. The girl who I guessed was on the next balcony across screamed. I was too scared to make any sound – I just struggled with myself… Wasn't I meant to fall? I needed to fall – I had to drive the hungry agony away.

_Lose your balance – fall! Then the pain will go away…_

So… I did.

Nearly.


	7. Chapter 7

'FUCK IT,' the flash of blue from beside me shrieked. 'PHIL, WHY ARE YOU NOT STOPPING HIM? Where is Phil? What's happened to Phil?'

_Oh she's a fan… that lives next door apparently._

Finally, I convinced myself to look across.

The almost luminous blue I'd seen was attached to the girl in the form of very startling hair – _pretty hair_. She was stood, leaning precariously across the edge of her balcony, her arms outstretched in a sort of grabbing motion… as if she was trying to stop me. _She can't, she mustn't!_

Her face sort of reminded me of Elle – pale skin, wide, bright eyes that cut through the rest of her features like a gun shot.

'Forget her,' I whispered, dragging my eyes away, forcing myself to concentrate. '_Jump_.'

'DON'T YOU DARE, Daniel Howell! Don't you fucking dare jump off that balcony – I will… I will…' she stopped mid-sentence. Even though I wasn't looking, I could almost feel her expression turn from one of panic, to one of deadly solemnity. 'Don't jump… Or I'll jump with you.'

I froze.

_No, this wasn't how it was supposed to work! I didn't want to hurt anyone else, I was trying to relieve the pain from both them and me._

'No…' I croaked. 'Let me go.'

'You go – I go with you.'

**Phil's POV:**

My eyelids fluttered weakly open in a strange, dreamy daze. White daylight stung my eyes and…

_DAN. Where was Dan?_

He wasn't lying down in the bed anymore – and… there was something stiff – paper – in my fingers. I never remembered reading the letter – I knew Dan had – but I hadn't… I didn't know what it said yet, did I? I remembered begging his silent, emotionless eyes, pleading with him to show me what it said. What could have possibly upset him so much?

I sat up slowly. The paper in my hand, I realised, wasn't the letter; it had my name on it… In Dan's handwriting. My mind went into a panic – _what was he doing_?

Frenziedly, I un-crumpled the letter and read it, my eyes flashing across the lines in dread. How could I have let myself fall asleep with Dan in this grief-stricken frame of mind?

I read the note, tears of anxiety filling my eyes.

_I'm sorry,_

_I never wanted it to come to this. I can't live with the pain that comes with the truth - I want you to know how much I will always love our friendship – I could never have asked for someone better. I'm scared Phil, I'm so scared._

_Tell Mum and Dad I love them – tell them I'm grateful for everything. Tell them… I'm sorry._

_I don't want to go, but please don't try and stop me. By the time you get this, I will be gone. Gone somewhere where the pain is more bearable._

_You will always be my best friend – I love you._

_But I've got to do this._

_Dan_

In a strange blur of feverish movements, I leaped up, slammed the door open and ran into the corridor.

He was going to die.

_He's going to kill himself – what if he's already dead? I don't want him to die!_

'DAN, WHERE ARE YOU?' I yelled, my voice rising in a frenzy of panic.

_He mustn't die, he mustn't die, he mustn't die – _

I ran full-pelt into the lounge, forgetting about everything else – the letter, the note – everything. I had to get to him.

Swivelling my gaze around the room, I noticed everything but the things I wanted to see, the camera, the mac-book , Dan's llama hat – But then I saw it.

The balcony doors were open… Swinging wide open, and… There he was. Standing, half dressed in a sort of blacked out daze on the second railing of the balcony. I forced myself not to scream. He mustn't fall – I couldn't scare him and cause him to lose his balance. The sight of him balancing precariously on the railings made my heart leap into my mouth and I felt my head throb agonizingly.

'Let me fall,' he begged suddenly.

_What… Who was he speaking to? He hadn't noticed me yet, surely?_

Another voice resonated through the cold air. 'No! Step the fuck off the railings – get down from there, you can't jump!'

It was a girl's voice – a very determined, scared tone resting over her words.

_Maybe there was still hope?_

I couldn't wait any longer. I ran forward. 'Dan, what the hell are you doing?' I cried. 'Please don't jump!'

Startled, he whipped around and fell from the railings, onto the decking beneath them, on the right side of the balcony; the one that wouldn't end his life. For a second, my mind blanked, but then as a tsunami of relief crashed over me, I seized him in a hug, realising he was crying too. Tears were soaking into my shoulder and I felt my heart descend back into my chest, beating furiously.

'How could you do that to me, Dan?' I whispered. 'Never do that again, you hear me? _NEVER_ do it ever again… Please!'

I felt him cry silently into my shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

Then I realised – I'd forgotten about the girl… Who was she – where was she? I looked across, over Dan's shoulder. She was aged of about twenty and was standing on the balcony along from Dan's and mine, sporting extremely bright blue hair that clashed with the strange look of solemnity that was pressed over her features like a sheet of ice.

She looked scared. _Terrified, even._

I nodded to her, silently thanking her for holding up Dan's… _suicide attempt_. If she hadn't come out onto her balcony at that precise second that Dan had, he would be… dead. His body would be sprawled, lifeless, on the road below. I felt suddenly very weak.

The girl looked across at me, her eyes were riddled with the strangely intense confusion and worry. Our eyes linked for a few seconds, hers making a silent, almost telepathic promise to stay quiet about what had just happened; then she disappeared back inside her flat and I heard the door clunk shut.

I stood there, holding Dan tightly against me, a strange feeling of numb relief flickering over me. He was still crying into my shoulders and I could feel him trembling.

'Don't you ever do that again,' I said, trying to control my shaking voice.

I didn't get a reply.


	8. Chapter 8

Phil's POV:

_The girl with the blue hair… Where did I know her from?_

From the minute I'd stepped back onto the landing, still clutching a tear-streaked Dan in my arms, her face had glued itself in my memory with a fierce persistence. I recognised her from somewhere… I was sure. Her face was etched into my memory, like a distant dream that had long since departed into the unknown of forgotten thoughts.

I knew her… I was sure of it. But then again, it could just be the emotional stress messing with my head.

I was perched on the chair opposite Dan, who was slumped over the sofa, his face buried in a cushion. My head heavy with exhaustion, I watched as his chest rose and fell, his hands trailing uncomfortably over the side of the sofa. I wanted to comfort him, tell him that everything was going to be okay – but right now, I wasn't sure he'd appreciate it.

After the whole balcony incident, he'd seemed even weaker than before, every inch of strength sucked out of him – as if his life-force had been drained away through a fragile segment of his health that had been gouged away when Elle had fallen prey to the car that had destroyed everything.

But she'd been cheating on Dan, anyway…

The last few moments of Elle's life flickered over my memory – her crimson-blackberry hair and elfin features. Her face in my memory began to merge and drift until I was looking into the wide grey-ish blue eyes of the girl from the balcony – I could feel her stare drilling into my brain from the strange, holographic image in my head. The strange feeling of deja-vue returned and I shook my head again, trying to force the memory of the girl away.

As I lowered my gaze to the coffee table, I noticed the camera Dan and I used to make our YouTube videos sitting precariously on a pile of DVD's. I grabbed it before it decided to casually fall off the table and throw six hundred and thirty six pounds in the bin.

It was turned on, I realised.

I hadn't used it…

Dan must have done. But why would he film himself _now_? He never felt particularly concerned about his subscribers going without a video for a week or two – and that was hardly the priority to focus on at this stage.

I flicked out the memory card, grabbed my MacBook from the sideboard and shoved it hurriedly into the correct slot, drumming my fingertips anxiously on the mouse as I waited for it to load. It couldn't come fast enough – I was half curious, half dreading what video I was going to be.

Finally, the file loaded.

Dan appeared on the screen – I'd sort of been expecting him to, but not like _this_…

His face was tortured and contorted in pain, his eyes fearfully wide, staring in desperation at the camera – this was a new Dan – an even more despairing expression creeping over his features than when I'd caught him on the balcony. A lump formed in my throat. I didn't want to watch this – I felt my head throb. But I had to keep watching, I owed him that much, surely.

Videos were made to be observed – if he hadn't wanted this to be seen, he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of sitting down and filming it through the excruciation of what he was suffering through.

His voice filtered through the MacBook speakers, breaking my already anguished heart even more.

'Hi… I…I guess this video is the last one I'll ever film… So, if this is Phil watching this, I want you to upload this to my channel.' He paused, breathing shakily, tears brimming on his waterlines. I wanted to reach into the screen and wrap my arms tightly around him – I hated this – it was so wrong, so distasteful watching him break down like this. No way in hell was this ever reaching YouTube.

His voice crackled through the small speakers again. 'So, I guess I'm talking to my subscribers right now…' He looked down, smearing tears across his face as he failed to rub the crushing sadness out of his eyes. 'I… I thought it would be wrong to just go. Particularly after all you guys have done for me… and this channel. You've been amazing – I could never have imagined the wonderful life this channel has brought me – _you_ have given me – all the amazing people I've met…' He paused and looked directly into the camera, his dark chocolate eyes digging into mine. That had been aimed at me, I was deadly sure of it. Yes…You, Phil, you idiot. I'm not going to go without saying goodbye.'

I felt a teary half-hearted smile ever-so-slightly pull at the corners of my lips. He knew me too well, I knew that much… And he actually cared about me, too.

'I just needed to say thank you. Thank you for putting up with me – Phil, Carrie, Alex, Peej, Chris – all of you – and all of you guys that have stayed loyal and watched my videos, even though most of them were pretty shit, let's be honest…' His voice trailed into a whisper and I heard his words mix with a brief relapse into tears. I hated it – I hated how I had to just sit there and watch as he suffered. Of course, this had long since happened, but it hurt, even so.

I watched him battle with his grief for a few seconds before he chuckled lightheadedly, the sound an insincere, distorted version of what it should be.

'You can put in a jump cut in there if you want… No one wants to burn their eyes on this,' he pointed to himself and bit his lip shakily.

'But… I… Oh god, I don't know what to say. My last few minutes of speech and I can't think of anything. But please, listen… If this is the last chance I have to make a difference, then I want to make it a good one. Just as I've always said – be who you want to be, don't let other people change you, Danosaurs. I won't forget you – wherever I'll be – you guys made me who I am today…' he stopped and a microscopic flicker of the Danisnotonfire I knew, that everyone knew, flickered through this tear-streaked, broken shell that was burning in grief on the screen of my MacBook. 'Dear god, this is fricking cheesy – but I'm telling you – if these are my last words, then listen to them. Don't waste away your life like I did for sixteen years, don't change yourself to please other people, because it doesn't matter. I love you – I love you guys more than I can articulate. You've made these past years' worth living, and it's only now that I've… I've…' He stopped again. This time, he didn't recover, he just crumbled apart, crying openly at the camera, raw, ragged sobs ripping from his lips like pages torn from a book. I cried with him – but numbly, silently.

'I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry. I love all of you… But this… This is goodbye.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow, anonfangirling actually POSTED?! ERMAHGERD… Sorry guys, been really busy with school, holidays, writing the chapters which I then procrastinate about posting. Believe it or not, I actually have more chapters – 10, 11 and 12, do you want to see them? Someone force me to post them otherwise I'm just going to procrastinate… and procrastinate until I don't even know… okay bye. Enjoy! :D**

Dan's POV:

I resurfaced into cold morning light to the sound of the doorbell. Groaning, I tried to fight off the drowsiness. My eyelids felt heavy and dull, like wet fabric, refusing to lift. The room around me faded into a blotchy, greyscale imitation of what was really there –patches and stains of black flashing across my vision.

I didn't want to answer the door… The sky outside was too dark – a lavender-grey sunrise, painted with wisps of greyish-lilac cloud hung across Manchester like an almost-monochrome tapestry. As I sat up, my head throbbed and the pain inside thrashed against my skull in a low, thrumming mantra.

_Go away, stop hurting me… What was wrong with my head…?_

My head was clouded up like the sky outside, my thoughts misty and illegible.

In a lightheaded, drowsy trance, I allowed my legs to carry me from the sofa towards the ringing doorbell, my bare feet padding across the carpet, growing rows of Goosebumps in the frigid morning air.

Fumbling with the catch, I pushed it open._ A wall of colour hit me; _a wall of _blue._

I blanched and had to stop myself from yelping as the wall of memories and pain came slamming back into existence. I wanted the blissful, oblivious drowsiness to return, I wanted the excruciation to leave – it was all her fault.

She was the one that had stopped me from falling.

_Of course, I remember now._

We stood there, just staring at each other for a few seconds, her slightly surprised blue-ish grey eyes locked with mine.

For the first time, I got a proper look at her; her hair, of course, was extremely blue – a bright, pale cerulean, the colour of a Caribbean sea. It suited her in a sort of extreme way. Her skin was so pale it was almost white and it didn't seem to clash at all with the vibrant colours she wore.

I watched her lips, waiting for her to say something – praying that I wouldn't have to do any talking.

I was out of luck… and I had absolutely no idea what to say to her…

_What is she even doing here?_ It wasn't that I disliked her presence; it was just the pain that came whenever I set eyes on her. She reminded me of the… the thing that I'd failed to do; the reason I was still in bitter excruciation that showed no signs of relenting.

As her eyes wandered slightly, I realised suddenly that I was lacking most items of clothing apart from a dark grey pair of Calvin Klein boxers. Blushing furiously, I tried not to acknowledge the discomfort of the situation.

'Why… why did you come?' I slurred drowsily, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

She looked at me in the same way that Phil did when I said something really stupid. I felt my cheeks glow a dark red. 'Oh right… Sorry about yesterday.'

'You are a big idiot, you know that right?' Abruptly after this statement, she pulled me into a tight hug. Her hair tickled against my bare skin, the smell of it reminding me of tall pine forests and wood smoke in early spring air. It wasn't one of those horrible, unnatural perfumes that smelled of forcedly sweet chemicals, it was natural and soft, almost like the way Elle's skin had felt under my fingers…

Suddenly the girl in my arms began to swim before my eyes, her ferociously blue hair melting into dark smoky red.

'Don't ever try and fall ever again… Please. And I'm sorry… I heard about… you know… It was on the news…' She whispered, her lips so close to my ears I could feel her breath on my skin.

The body before me no longer belonged to the blue haired girl from the balcony, it was Elle. I could feel my arms slipping around her waist and I grabbed her closer, burying my face in her dark poppy hair. I wanted her so much it tugged furiously at my chest where my heart lay, throbbing and confused. Part of me knew this couldn't happen – wasn't happening, but the other part was desperate, clinging onto the warm soft hips of the beautiful mirage in front of me.

She was here with me, but simultaneously so distant and faint it was like I was clutching at a ghost – a ghost in a false body. A false, beautiful body that I didn't want to let go of. It was Elle's, so perfectly Elle's – yet it wasn't. It was different, skinnier, and the embrace was different to how hers had been.

But it was Elle – my Elle.

Tears were stinging furiously at me eyes and I made no effort to stop them – the false sense of security I had was making me delirious, throwing my vision into an unfocused mess.

The arms around my waist suddenly tensed and I felt my heart clench into a tight ball.

_What_… what was happening now?

'Um, Dan… Ow.' The voice forced me out of Elle's distant embrace and back into the slightly bewildered arms of the blue haired girl from the balcony. _The reason I was still in pain. The reason I wasn't with Elle… The reason the agony and grieving hadn't stopped._

_She saved your life, Dan._

'Oh… erm… Sorry.' I mumbled, pulling away, suddenly feeling awkward and sort of cold. 'I didn't mean to… erm you just remind me of someone I guess and… sorry.'

_What the hell was that supposed to be, you prick._

She half smiled, her eyes still confused and wide and grey-ish blue like two miniature moons. 'It's not a problem… And I just wanted to make this clear; I'm visiting you as someone who cares about your feelings, not just a creepy fan girl. I'm so sorry for what happened to… to Elle.'

I blushed again, the sound of Elle's name on someone else's tongue making me anxious and tense. Nervously, I glanced down at my fairly large show of skin, feeling another flush of awkwardness and pain. Biting my lip, I looked back up at her, trying to force my brown eyes to meet her blue ones.

'I know it's none of my business, but I… I wanted to help make you feel less shit so I...' she paused, her eyes drifting down to the floor and towards one of the side pockets in her jeans. 'I painted you.'

Surreptitiously, she produced a small piece of slightly crumpled paper from her pocket and grabbing my hand, she pressed it into my fingers. For the seconds that our hands touched I felt her skin burn into mine and I flinched awkwardly, although as much as I didn't want to admit it, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling in the slightest.

Our eyes linked again as she bit down on her lip. I had to stop my heart from fluttering… I instantly hated myself.

'Sorry, it got a bit crumpled in my pocket…' she added, ' I'm not great at keeping things tidy, and I figured you'd be a bit freaked out if I appeared with a massive canvas, so I just did that instead.'

With quivering fingers, I fumbled with the paper until I was looking at… Wow. I was looking at a tiny monochrome watercolour of Phil and me. Phil and me in the most beautiful painting I had ever seen. Every line was tiny and delicate like it had been embroidered into the paper with cotton – the sharp lines of black cut across the image, defining it like a photo.

'Thank… thank you.' I whispered numbly, my voice barely audible. But she was already disappearing into the lift. 'Wait…' I croaked, trying to grab back her attention. 'I don't even know what your name is!'

Barely aware of what I was doing, I felt my legs propel me forward after her, my bare feet slapping over the clammy tiles on the floor of the landing. Lights in the other apartments on floor thirty-seven began to flicker on, casting yellow slabs of light under the doors.

I paid them no attention; I was so close to catching up with her, but the lift doors were slowly sliding together – there was just enough room to slip through -

I had to get to it in time…

The last I saw of her was a flash of cerulean and a small, careful smile that soaked into her eyes like warm Caribbean water in the grey-ish blue irises. Unable to stop the adrenalin that was forcing me forward, I slammed face-first into the lift doors with a metallic bang that rang through floor thirty-seven with all the energy of the wasted adrenalin I had left inside me.

A burning sensation flew through my nose and before I knew what was happening I was on the floor, hot wet blood streaming down my chin and into my mouth. I coughed violently, the ceiling above me spinning like a dream-world.

More blood… More pain.


	10. Chapter 10

Phil's POV:

BANG.

The sound fired through my ears and I felt myself fly to my feet, every cell in my body suddenly unnaturally awake and pumped with thick veins of adrenalin.

_What the hell was that?!_

Slamming on a pair of Vans, I ran through the flat to where I assumed the sound had come from. Doors were opening outside and I could hear a cacophony of voices cutting through the usually peaceful building. Was there a fire? What had happened?

Blearily, I stumbled out of the flat, still half asleep. The grey-ish lavender morning light was streaming through the long rectangular windows that stretched most of the way up the block of apartments, scattering dappled shadows and highlights over the mob of angry, disrupted residents of floor thirty-seven.

Except not all the voices were angry… Some were panicked, confused, scared even.

One of them – a sweet elderly woman called Jennifer with pale grey hair that looked almost lilac in the morning light – spotted me. She knew Dan and me from a house-warming meal she'd assembled for us when we'd first moved in about six months ago.

'Phil… I'm sorry, it's your friend, Dan,' she began, but I was already pushing through the crowds.

There was Dan, lying semiconscious in a pool of his own freshly spilled red blood, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts. My eyes throbbed in their sockets and I felt my legs go numb. Falling down onto my knees, I grabbed his wrists and frenziedly scrutinized them for fresh scars – the old ones were still there, healed over and dark red, but no new ones…

_So where was the blood coming from? What had he done to himself?_

More adrenalin throbbed inside me and I frantically searched his body for more wounds, feeling weirdly embarrassed at having to touch his bare skin in such an intimate way. But I had to help him…

'It's okay, I've got this,' I muttered, waving away the still loudly muttering mob of people that surrounded me. Slowly, they dispersed back to their various apartments until it was just Dan and me. Finally, the landing was silent – the only sounds were the soft hisses of breath that were emerging from Dan's blood soaked mouth and nose. It was only then that I realised I was still wasn't breathing from the panic of seeing Dan like this… Again. What had he done to himself this time…?

I waited until every last light was turned back off before I gently went back to searching for the source of the blood.

It wasn't too hard – it was his nose. How he'd done it must have been connected with the big bang that had woken me up – what if he'd been trying to commit again? I shook my head in denial.

Well… At least he was still breathing.

'Dan,' I said softly, resting my hand on his bare shoulder. He was cold – cold and dotted with Goosebumps and an unnatural white colour.

It was only then that I noticed the piece of paper by his fingertips – he must have been holding it when he'd fallen – _or whatever he'd done._

It was crumpled and small and I could see a trace of a picture on the one side of it. Gently, I removed it from the floor and opened it, carefully avoiding causing it any damage.

Inside was a painting of Dan and me – so realistic I felt my heart stutter. It was a perfect representation of what our friendship used to be – before Elle, before everything had fallen apart into a mess of pain and bitterly cold reality. Had he done it? Dan had never been amazing at drawing though, and this was perfect…

Every detail was exactly in the right place, despite the tiny scale of it.

A hand suddenly felt its way to my arm. Dan. He was awake… finally.

'Hey, Phil…' he rasped through the blood that clogged his lips.

'What did you do, Dan?' I demanded, before he could say anything else.

He moaned, trying to sit up, his fingers desperately gripping my shoulders. 'It was the girl… The blue haired girl…' he whispered.

'She did this to you?' I gasped, feeling confusion boil in my head.

Dan shook his head, wincing in pain as he did so. 'No,' he mumbled in protest. 'She came to see if I was okay… She did the… the painting of us.

I looked down at the painting again. 'It's really good,' I croaked, my own voice surreally distant.

'I know,' Dan whispered. Abruptly, he looked up at me, his face clouded over with a surreal mist that cloaked his features with numb doubt. 'Your eyes are the same colour as hers…' he mumbled lightheadedly.

'Right…' I said carefully, not wanting to upset this weirdly calm mood that had overtaken him. 'So what happened to your nose, Dan?'

'Oh,' he muttered. 'That.'

'Yes, that.' I confirmed, helping him to his feet. He staggered backwards and I only just managed to catch him in time.

'Thanks,' he whispered halfheartedly. 'I can't remember that much, but the girl left… the blue haired girl…' Gulping, he continued with a strange anxiety that haunted his words like the pallid skies of an overcast winter day. 'She left before I could get her name and went into the lift… I ran after her and I… I don't think I got to the lift in time to make it in there. The doors closed on me.'

'Oh…' I whispered. 'But please just… just be more careful next time, Dan.'

As I guided Dan back into the flat, I couldn't help but wonder who the girl actually was… She still seemed to remain stubbornly in my memory like a scar, a wound that wouldn't heal. What was it about her…?

**Dan's POV:**

The days began to blur together into a mess of pain and hurt – I couldn't even try and end it as Phil was constantly ready to pull me back from the edge. He just sat in the lounge, staring at the dust particles that hung in the air, hardly ever showing an emotion, barely moving, never speaking.

Every few hours he would come and check that I was okay – every time we would have the same numb exchange; every time we would grow further and further apart. The only the thing that reminded me of the friendship we used to share and hold so dearly was the tiny grayscale painting that I kept in my pocket.

I didn't understand how over a couple of excruciating, lifeless weeks we'd drifted so far apart.

I had no one to talk to anymore – I felt completely alone. I'd alienated Phil from the moment he'd shown me those stupid photos – even now I couldn't look him properly in the eyes.

We shared the same flat, the same kitchen, the same food – even the same clothes sometimes, but despite the intimacy of our situation I'd never felt so far away from him.

We were ghosts.

Greyscale footprints of what we were before – before Elle had gone, before Elle had come in the first place. I wished none of it had ever happened – then I would have Phil back, I would have my life back, and I wouldn't be in so much pain.

We attended Elle's funeral – it was a miserable rainy affair – we were only there in body, both Phil's and my consciences were lost in the thick fog of pain that hung over the grey little church yard. Neither of us knew how to recover them.

I'd stood up at the altar, made a speech, sat back down on the cold wooden pew, crumbled apart. It was all embedded in my life now, I was used to the pain, it had just become something that sat there, empty and cold in my chest where my heart used to be.

It was just there… I couldn't stop it, couldn't mute it, but it didn't matter anymore… Not now that I was alone. To an outsider, I had more than enough company – I had Phil, I had all of floor thirty-seven, I had all of my internet friends and subscribers, most of which wouldn't even think before giving their lives for me. But no one understood, no one was really properly there – I was trapped in my own cold coffin of misery – incapable of escaping, all motivation gone.

So the pain just… continued.

The same monotonous, aching routine: Wake up, wash, change into fresh clothes, eat… maybe… Go back to bed. Hurt.

The days began to grow colder as more and more weeks drifted by and outside the curtains I could see the silhouettes of snowflakes in the air. A thick uneven layer of snow began to build up on my windowsill and frost crept into the flat, in spirit and in thin layers of ice that cloaked the windows like spiders webs.

It only occurred to me then that I hadn't been in touch with the outside world for _weeks_… _Months even_. I hadn't posted any kind of video onto YouTube, tweeted or written any kind of status's to explain what had happened. I wasn't aware that Phil had either.

He'd been outside of course, to buy food and essentials. He'd always told me when he was leaving and had taken the keys to the balcony with him so that I couldn't… well, try and jump.

But what everyone that followed me on the internet was dreaming up about where I was or what had happened to me… I didn't want to think about. They knew about Elle of course, but she'd never had a particularly large following on Twitter or Instagram so not everyone would know.

Not that I really cared anymore.

Not now that she was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Dan's POV:**

A whole year. Twelve whole months and I hadn't seen or spoken to anyone other than Phil. I only knew the time had passed because it was snowing again – the sun was gone, the layer of thick frost had gathered on my window again.

Dejection saturated everything with rain and grey – the flickering moonlight from outside sending spirals of cold greyish shadow across the room. Outside I could hear the wind scouring over the apartment block like the edge of a razor – cold and grey like the depression that hung over the flat like mist.

Dragging my limbs from the bed, I stood up. The room felt cold around me and I pulled on a t-shirt, shivering. It startled me as my hand brushed against my chest – ribs – my ribs. I'd never been able to feel them before, and as I pulled up my shirt and looked down, I realised that I could not only feel them, I could also see them, plain as day. They jutted out, the skin stretched over them like canvas over a frame.

I swallowed. I hadn't exactly been eating well for the last year, but I'd never realised I'd fallen into this state of starvation. Frantically, my eyes darted over my body.

_So many bones – so thin, horrible._

Even my knees seemed to jerk out from their sockets - huge unnatural lumps of bone. I felt nauseated – this wasn't _me_… How could I have let this happen? What had I done?

It even hurt to move now – my legs ached as I took a step and my frame felt weak and brittle like every joint in my body consisted of cracked glass.

Slowly, carefully, I took a step towards the window. It felt weird, unnatural to be stumbling over a task as easy as walking – I felt old and wearied, as I was going to crumble into ashes at any second. It wasn't like I hadn't moved in the past days, but the sight of my ribs had made me suddenly very aware of how weak I was.

The brightly lit expanse of Manchester sprawled out below like a map of tiny gold and ginger stars in the black moonlit night. Snow was sheeting from the sky, coating my window sill like the fur coat of a wild animal – it was falling thick and fast, eager to escape the clouds and envelope the city in a thick mist of white.

'Dan?'

I jumped and spun around, grabbing onto the window sill to stop my legs from giving up. It was Phil, of course. He was standing in the doorway in his superman pyjamas, his eyes reflecting the moonlit snow from the window.

'Phil,' I greeted him. 'You okay?'

He nodded and walked towards me, his expression inattentive, distracted. 'Dan, it's been a year…' he said softly, pointing to the window. It was the first time he'd actually talked to me properly for months and I was relieved that finally we were communicating properly again, yet confused as to why.

'I know,' I whispered, barely audibly. 'It's snowing again.'

Phil shook his head. 'No… Look, fireworks.' His hand suddenly closed over mine and the year of loneliness suddenly began to fade into the background. 'Dan… Tonight is New Year's Eve.'

A whole year had gone. A whole year of grieving – a whole year of grey, faceless pain. I'd spent a year in my bedroom, a year hiding away from the world, a year of incessant heartache.

For a whole year, no one had heard from me, seen me, spoken to me. As far as the world was concerned, I'd stopped existing – as far as I was concerned that was true. No one knew if I was alive, where I was, what was going on.

Of course everyone must have known Elle had… had gone… They all must have assumed the worst. I was dead, through the eyes of the universe.

'It's 11:56,' Phil whispered. 'Four minutes until the beginning of a new year…'

I nodded shakily. 'No one knows what's happened to me. I've been gone for a year.'

Phil bit his lip, gazing into the sheets of snow outside. 'I didn't tell them what was wrong, they already knew about… about Elle. I kept tweeting about little things – the weather, food I was eating, the usual, I never talked about you – or told them why you had just… disappeared. I thought it would be wrong for me to say things on your behalf. I'm sorry Dan…'

'It's fine,' I mumbled.

So no one knew. The internet, my friends, my family, they were all hideously oblivious to the truth. How was I going to explain…?

'Your parents called,' Phil mumbled, his voice filled with anxiety. 'I told them you were ill… That you weren't able to talk… I'm sorry; I didn't know what else to do. You were ignoring me – I was ignoring you.'

I shook my head. 'It doesn't matter,' I tightened my grip on his hand, wishing I could go back to a time when we were still close, where we could talk to each other with no awkwardness – a time where everything was how it should have been.

We were silent for a few seconds, the only sounds coming from the snowstorm outside. I could hear Phil's breathing, soft and calming in the dark, his eyes clear and bright in the icy light from the moon outside. It only made me realise how much I'd missed him – I'd missed laughing with him over stupid little things, I'd missed his eccentric sense of humour, I'd missed the warmth of having someone to confide in whenever I needed, I'd missed him so much it hurt to look at him without realising how much I needed him there, by my side.

Right where we both wanted each other.

As if sensing my thoughts, Phil turned to look at me, his skin paler than usual in the half light. 'Dan, it's midnight. It's the new year…' I looked up at him, pushing my hair from my eyes.

'I've missed you so much,' I breathed, and before I could stop myself, I threw my arms around him. To start with in a flurry of horror, I thought he was going to reject the embrace, but the moment of doubt soon vanished as I felt his arms slip around my waist and our breathing quickened as he returned the hug. I needed him here with me – until the end, just like it should be – this time I would never let him go.

'I've missed you too, you idiot.' He said finally, his voice muffled against my shirt. 'Have you any idea how much it hurt, seeing you fall apart…? I never wanted it to be like that. I… I want to have my best friend back again.'

'You already have.' I whispered.

I could tell I was not the only one trying not to cry.


	12. Chapter 12

**Phil's POV:**

Dan and I stayed up until the sky began to lighten, sitting on the window ledge and looking out at the sky that was still dotted with fireworks, even in the early hours. It felt indescribably good to be back on good terms with him – we'd been so isolated from each other, from normality. I'd missed him so incredibly much that being back with him now felt like waking up from a particularly horrible, surreal nightmare – albeit a yearlong one.

The year had been hideous – an agonising combination of loneliness, suffering and grief; the thing that made it unbearable to look back on was that Dan and I had barely spoken throughout it. From the moment Elle's body had been crushed underneath that car, nothing had been the same. Despite the renewal of mine and Dan's friendship, I very much doubted we'd ever be able to manage the same light-hearted contentment we achieved before. At least not for a very long time.

Elle's death had cast a shadow over everything – one that was going to be near to impossible to lift. But that wasn't going to stop me from trying.

_A new year, a new beginning, right? _I thought, hopefully.

Maybe, just maybe, I could heal the wounds that had been cut through the past year – maybe I could stitch Dan's old self back together… It wasn't impossible. However, it was going to take a lot of a lot of will power for him to move on – his girlfriend had not only been killed but she'd also been cheating on him. Two huge blows to his sanity – how was I ever supposed to get the old Dan, _my_ _Dan _back again?

It was only when small smears of sun began to leak through the glass that I became aware of how long Dan and I had been awake. I looked down at my IPhone; six thirty in the morning. We'd been sitting there for six and a half hours… Weirdly, it hadn't felt like long at all.

'Dan?' I whispered, looking across at him. He was sprawled on the window ledge, his face resting peacefully against the window. His eyes were closed and he was sleeping, his breath soft and even. I watched him for a few minutes. He looked terrible, ill, exhausted. The strange pallid tinge was still lurking there in his almost spectral complexion – but what was worse were the exposed bones in his face – you could see the black ovals of his eye sockets behind his grey-ish purple eyelids and his cheekbones were jutting roughly out.

It was almost like looking at a skeleton; a pallid, unhealthy skeleton with a thick layer of stubble and an overgrown mess of coffee coloured curls that had grown at naturally odd angles.

But even in this ragged, untamed state, he was still my best friend, and whatever he looked like I wasn't going to let him fall again.

After a while, his eyelids drifted open.

'Morning, sleepyhead.'

'Hey,' he breathed. 'So this is what 2013 feels like.'

'Yeah,' I acknowledged.

For a few seconds we sat there, neither of us knowing what toTaking a deep breath, I forced myself to look up at him. 'Dan… I… I was thinking, that… I know this is going to be hard but this year, maybe we could try and move on…'

Dan's eyes snapped up at me, suddenly completely awake, every hint of sleep gone from his expression. 'What do you mean?' he demanded, his eyes desperately scanning my face for clues. 'What do you mean, 'move on', Phil?'

I sighed, regretting my decision to bring the subject up in the first place. 'I mean… I don't want to upset you… but I thought that maybe we should try and start over – a new beginning.'

Dan's lips began to quiver and I could tell he was trying not to cry. I rested my hand tentatively on his shoulder. He pushed me away, anger beginning to boil in his brimming tears. 'So you want me to just go back? Forget her? Forget it ever happened in the first place?' His voice broke and I felt the headache I'd had for the past year coming on again.

_Great Phil – only hours after re-sealing your friendship you wreck everything again. Good going._

'I thought you were past this Phil – blaming her for everything. I still love her, whatever she did behind my back – I don't care. I can't just _forget_ her.' He croaked pleadingly.

I shook my head. 'I didn't mean that – I know you can't do that.'

Dan tugged at his hair exasperatedly. 'Then what _do_ you mean?'

Taking a deep breath, I tried again. 'I mean, that maybe we could try and go back; back to our normal lives…' Dan's lips tightened into a grimace. 'Yes – I know you can't just forget her, but maybe just try and move on from the grief… Maybe make a video or something. Everyone's worried sick.'

He looked down at the carpet, his eyes layered with tears that mirrored huge white rectangles of light. The gesture caused some of the tears to fall onto the floor, leaving small echoes of where they'd fallen. 'How can I go back…? I can't be... who I was without _her_.'

'Dan you _are_ still _you_.' I whispered, attempting once more to place my palm on his shoulder. It relieved me that this time he didn't just duck away from my touch. 'You may not be able to go straight back into it, but please just... try.'

'I can't.' he said simply.

I bit my lip, desperate for him to at least agree to try and move on. We couldn't keep living like this; it was wrong, horrible, and cold. 'Please, Dan. No one knows where you are – your family hardly even know you're still alive.'

'I can't.' he repeated firmly.

'Don't say that,' I begged. 'Please, I hate this. I want to get out of this depression. Seeing you fall into this state is one of the most painful things I've ever done… particularly knowing that I could do nothing to help you.'

Dan continued to stare desolately down at the floor, although I was slightly encouraged to see his expression a little more irresolute than it had been as he'd denied all ability to try out the theory I had.

'Please Dan.'

Slowly, he lifted his head, trying to avoid eye contact with me, his cheeks a faint rose colour. 'I don't want to do it,' he muttered. 'But… for you. I'll try.' And he reached over to pull me weakly into a hug.


	13. Chapter 13

**Dan's POV:**

So… my life had started again.

Ish.

At nine thirty am, January 1st, the world I'd been so irreversibly dead to found me shaving away the thick stubble from my chin, roughly cutting my hair into something that resembled a fringe with a pair of scissors I found in a draw somewhere. Phil had tried to insist that I go to hairdressers, but I couldn't leave the safety of the apartment.

_Not yet._

I'd lied and told him that I'd used to cut my hair as a teenager, just to put his mind at ease. But the evidence of that little fabrication was going to appear very shortly as when straightened, my hair was unequally divided into about fifty different choppy square clumps that bore a resemblance to fraying chunks of ribbon.

I'd had to resign myself to wearing it curly to hide the damage.

Not that I really cared anymore… Hair was just a distraction.

Numbly, I cleaned the floor of all the excess hair, shoved it in the bathroom pedal bin and helped Phil make breakfast.

He wanted to make it for me, but I declined. Luxuries such as that I wouldn't appreciate – it was just best to bypass them.

The Country Crisp in the cupboard had gone quite stale and had lost its crunch over the year – Phil had just lived off Bran Flakes and Toast. I just ate my old cereal. It was as if it tasted of memories – filling my mouth with the bitter taste of loss.

I just tipped my bowl full in the bin when Phil's back was turned.

_He mustn't see me like this, I've hurt him enough._

For the first time in twelve months, I opened up my MacBook and sat awkwardly on the sofa, feeling weird in the sofa-crease that was left from all those seasons ago when I'd last sat there. It felt cold and unforgiving, unwilling to bring any relaxation anymore.

So many emails, Facebook Notifications, Twitter -replies, Tumblr notes, so much of everything.

Phil had been right – no one knew where I was. I was 'dead' on the internet.

_ phantasticbeth11 said: Dan where the hell are you u lil shit I miss you so fricking much :c Please tell us you're okay – and omg so fricking sorry about Elle :(_

_ emmablackery said: Hey, Dan, you've not been online for a whole year. On behalf of the Phandom, please just tweet… or something. We need some confirmation that you're alive here._

_ ilovedanhowell15 said: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU DAN :'( 3 ILYSFM_

_ philhowell said: Please come online, we're shitting ourselves here. Whatever's wrong, Dan, we'll always be there for you. I promise – we promise._

So they hadn't forgotten me. They were still there, everyone from before… a year older, a years' worth of worry resting heavily on their shoulders. I felt a twinge of guilt.

I'd been so wrapped up in Elle that I'd neglected them – ignored them – forgotten about them.

But hadn't I had every reason to do so? Wouldn't they have done the same? Surely…

_Shut up Dan – just talk to them, tell them you're okay._

Phil's voice rang through my head, telling me exactly what I knew I needed to do. But I couldn't – didn't want to do it. They would hate me for it – what was the point in going back?

_Just… do it. _Phil's voice penetrated the darkness of my thoughts again. I had to check behind me just to confirm that he wasn't really there – but no, he was in the shower. I could hear the water – however there was no singing.

He used to sing in the shower. Muse, Placebo, anime themes – god knows what else. He'd never been gifted at singing, but holy crap I missed it. It was like a huge chunk had been ripped out of everyday life with a huge iron scoop.

Well… it had, really.

_Twitter, Dan, FOCUS._

_Crap._

I moaned under my breath and opened a fresh tweet.

'_Hi internet. Sorry about being away. I guess you all know what happened to... Well you know, but I've been sort of ill recently. I'm sorry for letting you guys down so horrifically.'_

There. I'd said it… to everyone. It was hardly an explanation, but it would have to suffice. I wasn't physically or mentally able to go into the details.

Tweets came flooding in – weirdly quickly, as if everyone had been waiting on my page, refreshing my profile over and over again as if it were some kind of daily routine. Maybe they had…

For a year. A year of thankless waiting.

'_ danisnotonfire Dan, thank god. I thought you'd died. We're ALL here for you, just please remember that.'_

'_ danisnotonfire Omg omg is this real life?! Dan tweeted!? Omg Dan I missed you so fkn much my life's been hell without you tbh.'_

'_ danisnotonfire are you kidding me? Dan you've let no one down, it's not your fault. My gf was killed around the same time as Elle… I understand, I know what hell you're going through. This year I'm going to try and start over…'_

People still cared. Someone had even been through the same thing as me… and they were starting over – they'd already got over the shock, I'd just wallowed in it.

I was a let-down. I had to get over her… _No, say her name! _Elle… _Elle._ Even in my thoughts her name stung like the thorns on a bramble digging straight into my chest.

Phil was right – this year I was going to start again.

_A new beginning for both of us._

**Phil's POV:**

_January 2__nd__, a day after Dan and I had agreed on starting over, moving on._

I'd been putting a load of our laundry into the washing machine, when a slip of paper had tumbled out of the pocket in Dan's sweatpants. It was very crumpled and worn, as if it had been fingered too much and the painting I knew was on there was almost coming through onto the opposite side of the paper.

It sent a cold ripple of memories down my back. The girl from the balcony – if it wasn't for her, Dan and I wouldn't have been able to start again. _Dan would be dead right now, his ashes drifting across the city, caught in the wind._

I hadn't even _thanked her_. For a year, she'd remained in the block of flats next to ours, un-thanked, unrewarded, and even her name was an unsolved mystery to both Dan and me. Yet somehow, she'd still stuck around in the back of my mind, never fading completely.

Barely knowing what I was doing or where I was going, I'd walked to and arrived at the local florist, asking for a bouquet of roses to give to her – she deserved those at least. A thank you had to come in some form and a verbal one was just out of the question – I couldn't face her again.

Although I had no idea why it would be so difficult – it was just something about her. Unsolvable, indescribable; it was just there, in the back of my mind.


	14. Chapter 14

**Phil's POV:**

The small bunch of roses wrapped in fine silvery cellophane clashed confusingly with the greyish, graffiti smeared walls of the block of flats inhabited by the girl from the balcony. Everything was run down and layered with dust and grime – even the floor had a thick layer of footprints and spray paint that spelled out several heavyweight profanities – the type Dan used to yell when he dropped something or tripped over.

_It must be such an unpleasant, stuffy place to live in,_ I thought. The girl had been too pretty and clean to come from somewhere like this.

I pressed the button on the lift. Something inside crunched and a metallic clang rang through the building.

_Oh._ I was going to be using the stairs then.

Slowly, but surely, I reached the right floor. Of course it was fairly high up because the girl lived on the same floor as Dan and me, and we were on floor thirty-seven. Thirty-seven flights of steep, unforgiving stairs.

There were several apartments on that floor – only one of which faced Dan's and my balcony, which, I figured, was probably hers.

I could feel my fingers shaking around the thick green stems of the roses. I'd initially planned to just leave them outside her door, but in a place like this they'd get taken or destroyed or some other horrific fate was befall them.

I was going to have to face her.

My knuckles trembling, I knocked on the door.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Still only silence reached my ears; cold, empty silence, lifeless and hollow.

_She must be out, _I resolved.

I tried the other flats – they all contained people who undeniably were not the girl, so I figured that she wasn't home.

Sighing, I placed the flowers down outside her door – if they got stolen and she never got them… Then that was just bad luck.

I arrived back at our flat a good ten minutes later, feeling much better that I had done something in the way of thanks for my parents. Uplifted, I slung my keys and rucksack down on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen.

'Dan?' I shouted.

As I called his name, I almost walked right into his back. He was standing, inert, staring out the window, his IPhone pressed tightly to the side of his face, tucked messily under several curly tufts of his hair.

'Mum, I'm sorry!' he cried suddenly. It was only then that I noticed how ever so slightly his shoulders were quivering and his idle fingers were clawing into his palms.

So he'd dived straight into the deep end – after a year of silence, he'd just gone and called them – straight out, in the first day of the New Year. I forced the upcoming tears away from my eyes and took his hand.

He spun round, unaware that I'd been standing there. His cheeks were pale and peppered with the hot salty tears that were sliding from his eyes and splashing softly down onto our adjoined hands. I sent him the most reassuring smile I could muster and squeezed his quivering fingers between mine.

Another fountain of speech erupted down the phone and Dan held it a few centimetres away from his ear.

'Okay, of course,' he said, struggling to be heard over the hysterical voice of his mum on the other line.

As he spoke, his words seemed to crumble to mere ruins in the air around us as tone of uncomfortable resignation crept into his tone.

'Mum, I've said I'm sorry – what more do you want me to do?'

I could feel his fingers clenching around mine even more tightly; it hurt a little, but I didn't resist as the sharp points of his nails gouged marks on my knuckles. He needed support – I was going to provide as much as he needed.

'Mum – there are no taxis – it's New Year's Day!'

_What..? _

'No, I don't have a car – neither does Phil…' he voice broke again, but he was more in control this time. 'No! I haven't got any money to buy one- '

_Wait… He was going to go and see them? Already? He wasn't even coping now – I don't want to know what kind of emotional wreck he'd be if he confronted them, face to face._

'Fine. Yep- Look- Mum, I will, I swear I will. Yep. Yeah, I promise. I'll be with you by Tuesday evening…'

_Tuesday evening? That was only three days away – it was Saturday now. He's taking it too far – he won't make it there-_

'Love you too,' he paused, listening to another wave of garbled out speech. 'I have to go now Mum – if I'm going to make it to Berkshire by Tuesday, I need to start packing now, okay? Love you – yeah I promise – okay. Love you too, bye.'

As soon as he'd pressed the 'end call' button, I was pulled desperately into a tight, almost pleading embrace. Dan was crying again – the sobs barely audible as he pressed his face into my shoulder.

'That was incredibly brave, Dan,' I whispered, my voice muffled by his hair, which I noticed, was horrifically badly cut and was still, surprisingly, holding its natural curl.

'No it wasn't.' he croaked. 'It was just something I should have done a year ago.'

**Dan's POV:**

**Sunday morning:**

'So in the space of two days, we've got to get a car, phone up just about every single person ever to tell them you're okay, and then drive to Berkshire.' Phil stated, writing on the to-do list that lived on the wall of the kitchen with the concentration of a school boy building a LEGO spaceship.

I nodded tiredly. The previous night had held little to no sleep for me, just incessant nightmares that toyed twistedly with my thoughts and memories, turning them into their own horror story in my head. I'd woken up coated in a thick layer of sweat, short of breath with a nagging headache behind my eyes.

The sweat was long gone, and I'd got my breath back hours ago, but the headache was still playing with my vision and mental capacities, nibbling away at a corner of my brain, spreading across my head like a swarm of tiny ants.

'Dan, you've got a driving license right?' Phil asked, momentarily breaking me from my cocoon of headache and exhaustion.

'Yeah.' I acknowledged. I'd taken a driving test before I'd left for university in Manchester, but I'd never owned a car, so my driving abilities had never really been needed. Public transport in Manchester was ample. Plus, with my intense use of broadband, I hardly needed another, more expensive way of saying goodbye to money.

'We should hire one of those pickup trucks – they're nice and cheap to run according to Google.' Phil continued to go into detail about a website on which he'd found an old Toyota for a few hundred or something. I wasn't really listening properly.

'Dan?' Phil's hand suddenly appeared inches from my face. 'Are you even listening?'

'Yeah, right.' I said, brushing him away tiredly. 'We needed a car anyway, that's great, go for it.'

'I'm sorry Dan, I didn't mean to rush you- ' he started.

I didn't want to hear it, instead I buried my face into his shoulders and cried… Again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Dan's POV:**

Tuesday morning went in a messed up wave of breakfast, frantic packing and dragging suitcases into the lift, down and out into the new, burgundy orange pickup truck that Phil was now apparently obsessed with. It was a rusty, disastrous excuse of a vehicle – the seats were duct-taped up to hold in the rumbustious amounts of stuffing that threatened to leap out if sat down on.

The most horrific thing was that I was the only one with a driving licence, meaning I would have to drive it.

_Bloody brilliant._

Phil, of course, was obsessed with the thing – he almost adopted it as if it were a pet cat, dog or hamster. He refused to admit how run down and tired it was when I'd bluntly acknowledged the large dent in one of the doors. Oh well, at least one of us was happy. Ish…

I was sat next to Phil in the front of the truck, the uncomfortable seats poking lumps of uneven stuffing into my legs. Meanwhile, my neck was desperately trying to get used to the horrible reality that the headrest had long since retired; the lump of coarse brown stuffed canvas had been relieved of its duties by gravity and was now lying pitifully on the floor next to my feet.

I glared out of the windscreen, trying to mask the insecurity and grief that I knew was still visible in my eyes. I still hurt – mentally and physically. My head continued to ache and my vision was still decorated with strange blotches of neon pinks and yellow, almost like a strange Instagram filter.

'You got everything?' Phil asked me, breaking the silence.

I nodded, my fingers wrapping around my phone that was sitting in my pocket, trying to calm myself down.

'You'll be okay, it will be alright, I promise…' I nearly jumped in surprise as his fingers connected with mine and I squeezed them back gratefully.

'Thank you.' I whispered.

**Phil's POV:**

The long journey to Dan's parents' house seemed to drag on for hours, the misty January landscape rushing past like a painting in dismal cloudy monochromes. For the whole while, Dan's almost motionless form exuded unhappiness and tension. Only his hands moved – his fingers white and thin, clamped onto the steering wheel with a seemingly unrelenting grip.

He was so frail. I hated it. I wanted more than anything to reach out and pull his fragile form into a hug, but he was driving and I figured that that wasn't a particularly sensible idea. There was nothing I could see in his eyes but vulnerability, pain and a deep, gouging sadness that still hadn't lifted from the dark hollows in his face.

Feeling my gaze resting over him, he looked round, confusion lifting his eyebrows ever so slightly.

'Phil?' he said softly. 'Why are you looking at me like that?'

'I... I don't know.' I stammered, feeling my teeth clench down on my bottom lip.

_Well done, Phil, _I thought cuttingly.

I was about to say something else when -

BANG.

It was like being in a bread-maker as I was jarringly thrown back into the unsympathetic leather seat. For a few seconds I wasn't sitting on anything and inevitable gravity shook every bone and muscle in my body. I felt the shock jam my eyes shut. Scrambling for something to hold onto, my desperate fingers found nothing but the stiff fabric of the seat and the cold black plastic of the dashboard – where was Dan, was he okay? I wanted to look for him, to see his reassuring eyes looking back into mine, but my vision seemed to be impaired and blacked out by the crushing shock of what had just happened.

_What… What actually did just happen?!_

My chest pounding with my uneven heartbeat, I heard Dan's ragged panting next to me and the screech of a handbrake and it took a few seconds before the shock allowed my eyes to open again.

The interior of the pick-up truck emerged in blotches of bluey yellow and red and I blinked through it all, trying to get rid of the mess of stars that were infecting my sight.

There was something else there though. An oval – a face surrounded with black hair, human hair. It took my shaken brain a while to acknowledge that the thing crushed against the twigs of the hedge was a human, a girl with medium length black hair and oval eyes that were widened in surprise and confusion, as were my own.

Something spiked in my memory. Of course, I knew her; it was… the girl from the flat next to hours.

_Why here, why now?_

'Dan,' I trembled. 'Look.'


	16. Chapter 16

**Phil's POV:**

Dan's reaction was surprisingly instantaneous, he threw open the door, staggering out onto the thick vegetation we had somehow driven into, wading through it as if it didn't even exist. I tried to follow him, but my limbs seemed glued to the seat and my eyes glued to the girl's.

She was still staring at me, almost completely ignoring Dan, who was still striding round the truck to help the girl who apparently, I realised, had almost just been run over. By us.

I forced myself into motion, opening the door and stepping out into the grass. It was deceptively deep and I felt my foot sink into deep mud.

'It's you,' I heard Dan say softly to the girl, who had only just become aware of his existence.

She nodded distractedly, constantly throwing glances over her shoulder… at me.

**Dan's POV:**

It was her… Again. She kept appearing – why did she persistently emerge from the background and somehow become significant, again and again. If it wasn't for her, I would be dead, Phil would have been in ruins, yet she'd reappeared in the most obscure grey lane and I'd nearly just driven over her in that monster of a vehicle Phil had bought.

Somehow, one thing had led to another and we were here, with her, again.

I felt a pang of pain as I looked at her. She reminded me of Elle… Well, of course she did – the first time I'd set eyes on her she'd been the one stopping my grief over Elle from taking over and pushing me over those railings. Yet, through all of those memories, she reminded me of someone else too. But I didn't know who.

'Are you okay?' I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

'Yeah, but you're not.' She said, glancing pointedly down at my fingers. They were shaking, I realised.

'Oh,' I acknowledged, hastily changing the subject before any questions could be asked. 'Sorry about driving so badly, I haven't driven anywhere for a while…'

She nodded. 'It wasn't your fault, the same happened to me.'

I felt confusion sweep across my face. 'What?'

'Look,' she pointed to somewhere over my shoulder and I turned round, not sure what I was expecting to see.

Apparently, her description had been surprisingly accurate as a small red Mini was embedded firmly in the thick mud on the verge we'd crashed onto, just a few meters up from our pick-up truck. The wheels had been almost completely submerged and the sides were spattered with mud, as was the girl, I realised.

'Oh… so you crashed here as well.' I said dully. There were too many coincidences for me to handle and I felt everything shift around me into a mess of grey. Nothing seemed impossible anymore, no coincidences unlikely to occur.

'Yeah, you hit the same bloody pothole as I did.' She explained. 'And unless we move that thing quickly,' she pointed to the truck, next to which stood Phil, 'It's going to end up drowning in a fucking lake of mud – you've seen the proof.'

'Wait – what were you doing driving out here anyway?' I asked. One more coincidence needed an explanation, at least.

'I've been staying with my friend for the past year – she runs her own chain of Health Food shops so I was working down there… London got boring. Except I got bored of working every day in the same shop, in the same street, so I decided to start again – a new job, maybe even a new flat. I don't know. What about you? Why are you all the way out in this fucking wasteland?'

I thought for a second. Nothing I had to say sounded nearly as interesting as what she'd just come out with. 'We were going down to visit my parents. I haven't seen them for a… a…while.' I petered out pitifully staring at the floor.

'Oh,' she smiled gently. 'Well fuck our lives, then. Too many bloody coincidences for my brain to handle.'

A felt a weird smile creep onto my lips, she seemed so open and straightforward, so easy to understand. 'You swear a lot don't you?' I said, thinking back to how many profanities she'd come out with on the balcony all those months ago.

'You love it, Daniel,' she grinned. 'Now get me the fuck out of this ditch?'

For some reason, I felt accepting of her flirting with me – I didn't feel defensive or uncomfortable, like I knew I should have done, but it just wasn't there. In fact… I sort of liked it. I liked those eyes, filled with dancing blue as they connected with mine, I liked the way she smiled at me, tongue bitten between her teeth.

_Stop it; remember you already have someone… Elle._

The voice inside my head was hard to ignore, particularly as I knew, deep down, that it was right. But a little flirting wouldn't hurt, right?

_You're just as bad as Elle now, cheaters together._

_ But I'm not cheating on her… she's dead. Gone. Let me break away._

I couldn't just 'break away' from my connection with Elle, not ever. She was still there, even just as a conscious, eating away at the back of my head, never leaving – a shadow, irreversibly permanent. I wanted to like it, I knew I should embrace the memories and thoughts that 'Elle', or at least a subconscious version of her was throwing at me. But I couldn't.

When I thought of Elle, everything seemed wrong. False. It never had before, but now, every inch of sincerity in her eyes had gone and it made my knees weak.

Something brought me back to the surface with a jerk and had to stop my legs from giving away.

'Uhh, Dan…' it was Phil, patting me nervously on my shoulder.

'Come on, dreamy, get me out of this shithole please,' the girl, who remained in the steep ditch by the hedge was looking more and more impatient as I dithered. Except she was still smiling, which reassured me that I wasn't completely rejected.

_Damn you, daydreams, _I thought icily and went to help her.

'Wait!' I cried.

'What?' both Phil and the girl chorused, both equally bewildered.

'I still don't know your name – except this time when I ask, you don't run away, okay?' I said, stepping down into the ditch to help her up.

'Ana. Ana Everitt if you must know,' she said, the corners of her mouth creeping into a smile.

I smiled softly. Ana. It was a cute name; I admitted to myself – _no, stop it!_

She tried to walk out of the mud, but stumbled, cried in pain and issued a large amount of profanities. 'Shit, my ankle,' she said, teeth gritted, fists clenched.

'Oh god, I am so sorry, I didn't realise we'd actually hit you-' I stammered pathetically, but she cut me off.

'No, no it's okay Dan – I tripped over when trying to get away from your amazing driving skills, it wasn't your lovely pick-up truck that did that to me, don't worry about it.' she laughed bitterly, momentarily glancing at me, her expression softening a little.

'Do you want me to get a bandage or something…?' It was only as he spoke that I remembered Phil, standing awkwardly in the background. I looked round at him, feeling guilty of how I'd neglected him so badly. 'Do you even have a bandage, Phil?' I asked him, confused.

'Yeah.' He said grimly. 'Just in case of… um…' his eyes wandered to my wrists and I blushed furiously, hoping Ana hadn't picked up on anything.

'Phil I- Okay. Fine, do whatever, great.'

Looking slightly nervous at my sudden embarrassed hostility, he disappeared into the pick-up truck. I felt a twinge of guilt pulling at my lungs and I choked out a small cough that was ever so close into turning to a sob.

_I mustn't cry, not here, not now._

I didn't even know why I felt like crying – it was just a muddle of doubt, doubt of whether I should allow myself to act so comfortably around the girl – Ana – and pain. Pain that had lingered with me ever since that horrible night in the hospital as I'd cowered next to Elle's body, watching her heartbeat stop on the monitor.

Something that felt like adrenalin shot through my shoulder as I felt a hand rest upon it. It reminded me of the way Phil had done the same so many times to comfort me throughout the past year.

The hand didn't belong to Phil though, it belonged to Ana.

'Dan – listen to me.' she began tentatively, her voice soft. 'I know what you're thinking – but it's okay. I'm not trying to replace her, I promise.' I looked round at her, my eyes brewing with tears again. I fought them angrily, biting back the lump in my throat.

'I don't want to talk about it,' I said shortly, piling her into my arms and out of the deep in the embankment. I heard her bite back a gasp of pain as her ankle knocked briefly against my thigh and immediately felt guilty about being so brusque with her.

'I know, but- '

'Stop! I don't even know you!' I croaked, my voice trembling uncontrollably, barely audible.

I tried not to succumb to the betrayal in her eyes as she looked helplessly up at me, her gaze pleading with me, sincere and confused.

'I saved your life.'

'You did.'

'Not going to thank me?'

'What for?' I said, my voice raising before I could stop it. 'I wanted to jump off that freaking balcony – you made the pain continue – I wanted it to end!'

'Yes, but you didn't have to listen to me.' Her calm, almost immediate reply came as a shock to me. It made me feel stupid – why had I shouted at her, why did I have to be so immature and susceptible? I shouldn't have done it, I knew that, but I couldn't stop the anger from boiling in the pit of my stomach – she'd kept the pain going, it was her fault!

… But then it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. She'd saved me and this was how I was thanking her?

_You prick, Dan, you fucking twat._

'Dan… Ana? Is everything okay, or should I just… um…' Phil's voice sent both Ana's and my heads spinning round to face him. He was stood, clutching a large white packet of bandages in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.

Neither of us spoke and the silence bristled with tension.

'Uh… Okay.' Phil stuttered, shuffling from one foot to the other. Starting again, he said, 'Ana, your foot looks kind of bad, do you want any painkillers?'

I felt her nod, disturbing the air between us. 'Yeah, thank you Phil.'

The girl in my arms suddenly felt as though she didn't belong there and my fingers felt almost prying as I held her in mid-air, my weak muscles strained and painful against her weight that to any other person would have been almost inconsequential.

Why did I always end up hurting…


	17. Chapter 17

**Phil's POV:**

Dressing Ana's ankle injury took a lot more time than anticipated, as the cut had become infected with the thick mud she'd been stuck in and the anaesthetic I tried to give her turned out to be attached to a very big needle, that understandably, Ana was more than reluctant of having jabbed into her leg. Another slowing factor of the operation was that Dan had become brooding and uncooperative, barely able to offer any useful assistance. This turn of mood had seemingly occurred in the amount of time it had taken me to retrieve the bandages from the glove compartment in the truck and get back out again. I'd heard them speaking a little as I'd been searching for it, but I hadn't really picked up on any cause for his sudden change of character.

Eventually, we'd all decided to pile into the pick-up truck, and Dan had agreed grudgingly to take Ana with us to his parents' house. Ana had equally grudgingly agreed to be taken there, the whole time avoiding eye contact with both Dan and me. I wasn't sure exactly how his parents were going to react when we turned up with a random girl on their doorstep, but what choice did we have? Ana's Mini was firmly embedded in the muddy bank, so there was no way out for her. We waited for the breakdown service to collect the little car, before piling into the pick-up, Ana squished awkwardly in between the two of us. She hadn't had the money to pay for a lift back to London, so the only way out was with us, however uncomfortable or awkward.

Dan drove stiffly and only ever spoke with an air of intense hostility. It was disguise. I knew him too well to be fooled by this act of dislike towards Ana. He was just hiding the pain, just like he always did behind a thick layer of anger that to anyone other than me would have seemed genuine. This was what I was worried about, because as the journey progressed, Ana's expression showed more and more hurt and I could hardly explain to her why Dan was finding it so painful, because I didn't really know myself.

And, if I was honest, I wasn't finding it the easiest either. The weird sense of deja vou hadn't completely faded – Ana brought back some confusing sense of recollection to me that I couldn't place. It was almost like that frustration when trying to name a forgotten song that was playing, but completely escaped recognition – a faded memory that had been erased, only a trace remaining.

Finally, the piercing white January daylight faded and became a thick black mask outside. It prevented any facial awkwardness now, at least. However, the change of time meant that the air outside had grown cold and bitter, sending shivers through the inappropriately thin fabric of my hoodie and down over my skin.

I could see my two very motionless, sombre travel-companions suffering as much as I was in the harsh weather, but Ana was covered only in a thin galaxy-print t-shirt and goose pimples had broken out over her arms, just like mine did when I was cold. I was about to offer her my hoodie, when Dan, amazingly, beat me to it.

'No, you keep it,' she replied firmly, pushing him away as he tried to wrap his jacket over her shoulders. But Dan, being the stubborn 22 year old he was, was just as insistent as she was, so they ended up crouching awkwardly under the same jacket, Dan somehow managing to drive through the tangle of limbs between them.

This sudden act of kindness and intimacy bewildered me. Until today I'd been sure I'd known everything that went on in Dan's complicated mind, but now that security had all been shredded as if it had been as brittle as paper and was left with a blank space. It was as though I didn't know him anymore… But for the past year, had we really even known _each other_?

**Dan's POV:**

The shivery breaths from Phil seemed to drift into the deep sighs of someone who'd fallen asleep as the clock on the dashboard crept towards midnight. However, the petite form next to me remained obstinately conscious throughout the long night hours, occasionally pushing loose black hair from her eyes or shifting position in the uncomfortable silence that engulfed us.

The jacket, luckily, was fairly large in sizing, so we both fitted inside it without too much discomfort; however, the seating arrangement didn't fail to be irrevocably awkward. Despite this, I could almost feel myself enjoying the proximity of the cute, drowsy girl beside me Ana was pretty, there was no denying it, and I could sense the urge inside me threatening to make me do or say something extremely untactful and stupid.

I couldn't deny it, I liked her, yet I couldn't stop myself from acting with such resentment towards her and I detested myself for it. Finally, the bristling pressure in the air became too much to deal with and I had to pull in at a small dip in the curve of the road.

I sat up and removed the jacket from our shoulders, leaving us both shivering in the cold black air, making the lack of heating in the truck even more noticeable than before. I felt her shift beside me, confused as to what I was doing.

'This has to stop,' I said firmly; however I made sure I lowered my voice considerably as I was not particularly keen on the idea of Phil waking up in the middle of the argument that would inevitably ensue.

'Yes it does.' She agreed, sitting up so that she was facing me, her hair messy from being pressed against the headrest.

She looked so nervous that for a second I stumbled, struggling over what to say to her. 'I'm sorry about… being so… so horrible.' I mumbled. 'I just don't know what- ' I cut myself off abruptly, unsure of where my sentence was going or how I was going to end it.

I heard her sigh in the blackness of the cab. 'I understand, you don't need to explain,'

'You do?'

'Yes, I do. You don't want to get close to me because you think you're betraying your… You feel as though you're betraying your relationship with Elle, and you feel the only way to stop it from happening is by acting like an arrogant prick towards me, right?' she said simply, the 'pissed off big time' look I knew so well from Phil creeping into her eyes.

I nodded silently in the darkness, unsure how to respond to this sudden outburst. She was right, of course, on an extreme scale, but it didn't stop me from feeling a rush of sadness overcoming my senses at the sound of Elle's name bouncing off her tongue. It was also unnerving at how accurately she could read my on-the-surface emotions and translate them into the truth, but I was fairly used to that sense of being studied like a book from Phil's acute sense of what was going through my head.

'Sorry,' she began, 'I didn't mean to creep you out, I just- '

'No!' I broke in, stopping her mid-sentence. 'You're right…' Pausing, I drew in a mouthful of air, letting it wash down into my dry lungs and before I could stop myself, the truth tumbled from my lips in a rush of distorted words.

'Elle cheated on me – Phil showed me photos and I just… I feel like I'm cheating on her when I even allow myself to speak to you. I feel as though I'm replacing her and it feels wrong and- '

'Elle _cheated_ on _you_?'

I nodded numbly, adrenalin coursing through my bloodstream like hot blue flames. I barely knew Ana's name - what had I done, telling her my most personal piece of information? More importantly, why had I done it? Maybe it was the unbreakable sincerity in her eyes that had developed that weird, almost instantaneous sense of trust I had in her…

_But you just properly met her for the first time, what is wrong with you Dan?_

'I don't get it,' Ana muttered, breaking the dead silence.

'What?' I said dully, not wanting to talk anymore in fear of another lump forming in my throat.

'If she cheated on you… Then why do you feel guilty about moving on from her?'

Another surge of anger sprung into my chest. 'What would you know about it?! I barely know you; I don't want to talk about it with _you._'

It felt so wrong, the way the hurt prickled her eyes in the darkness – I didn't upset people like this… At least, the old 'me' didn't.

_She was only asking, you twat._

'No fucking wonder she cheated on you if you treated her like _that_.' Ana retorted, her words sending fire through the air, scorching my cheeks red.

'If that's the way you feel, why did you accept a lift from me?' I fired back.

'Because… I…' the words came out in an unsure waver as she tried to form a sentence, and I felt almost pleased – I was winning this argument. 'You wouldn't believe… No, just never mind.'

Bewildered and angry, I waited in confusion for either of us to say something. But of course, neither of us did.

And it remained that way.


	18. Chapter 18

**Dan's POV:**

I only realised I'd fallen asleep when I was prised awake by a soft, choking, sobbing sound that ripped quietly through the silence in what I assumed were the early hours of the morning. My eyes and ears took a while to adjust, but finally I was able to recognise that the sound belonged to Ana…

She was crying.

As quietly as I could, I sat up. Phil was still slouched, fast asleep, to one side of me, frowning ever so slightly as he slept. Ana, however, was curled up as far away as possible from where I sat, shaking as she wept into her palms, breathing raggedly. She hadn't noticed me watching at her yet… I guessed she was too engrossed in her own inner pain to really give a damn if I was looking at her anyway.

Guilt washed over me, on top of the disarray of emotions that were already creating butterflies in my stomach. It was my fault – I'd upset her, I'd brought those tears to her eyes. Of course, she knew me from YouTube; I was, well, her idol of sorts, and I'd shouted at her, told her how unimportant she was.

It was like someone had whipped me in the face with a belt.

_You little shit, all you do is upset everyone – she looked up to you, cunt. And you went and did this to her._

'I'm sorry,' I murmured soundlessly. In a breath I regretted everything I'd said, every horrible, demeaning word, despite the bitter truth of it all. I didn't know her, I shouldn't have confided that much with her, and it was wrong of me to lead her on by sharing the jacket with her and then push her so angrily away.

Before I could stop and think, my will power shattered and I found myself reaching forward to touch her trembling shoulder. I liked her, I was tired and unprepared and what was more, I remembered how right she was. If Elle had cheated on me, why was I so concerned about betraying her? She didn't deserve my undying love – she was gone, I couldn't grieve forever, could I?

As soon as my fingers made contact with her skin, it was although an electric current had shot through her. Leaping up, she span ferociously round, her eyes ringed in a tear streaked confusion of black eye makeup.

'W-what are you doing?' she stammered through a throat clogged with the obvious unhappiness.

'I'm sorry, I made you cry,' I said gently, wishing she would let me hold her hand, or at least provide some sort of comfort. It was almost painful to watch her suffer – after all, I was the reason she was suffering at all.

'It's not all you, you prick. You're only a very small part of it.' She laughed bitterly, sending another stream of tears down her cheeks. 'I was wrong to be so insensitive and thoughtless when I spoke about… Well, you were there so I hardly need to spell it out, do I?'

I shook my head. 'It's fine… You were right anyway.' I paused, wondering whether I should delve any further. I did anyway. 'But if it wasn't me that upset you, then why are you crying?'

For a moment I was certain that she was going to start crying again, but instead she simply spoke through tightened lips. 'It's nothing.' she said, half-smiling briefly, before her eyes became unhappy again and submerged in misery. I considered stopping there… But no, if she knew about my problems, I didn't see any reasons why she couldn't tell me about hers.

'Why can't you tell me why you're upset?' I breathed. She was about to change the topic, obviously avoiding the question, but I couldn't help but let my curiosity get the better of me. 'Tell me, Ana?'

'It doesn't matter, okay? She snapped abruptly. I jumped back in surprise – I certainly hadn't been meaning to provoke that reaction out of her.

For a few moments we sat looking at each other, both of us breathing heavily under the effect of her sudden anger. Another rush of guilt overtook me. I shouldn't have delved any deeper into her personal affairs - I'd grown angry at her when she'd done it to me… What had I been thinking, pressing her like that? The solemnity in her eyes was long gone, replaced with a white fire that scorched the air around us like the hottest blue flames in a hearth, almost warming up the icy night outside.

_She looks beautiful when she's angry_.

No, I didn't mean that. Did I? But the way Ana's hair had become tousled and the natural waves had crept back in, she was _stunning_, no one could deny her of that.

Yet it still felt hideously wrong. Again, I was betraying the tiny shard of Elle I had left, and yet somehow, I wanted her to let go.


	19. Chapter 19

**Dan's POV:**

'Why are you looking at me like that?' Ana demanded.

It was only a few minutes of guilt later that I realised that I'd been staring at Ana's lips for way too long to be socially accepted, wishing to god that I wasn't so desperate to kiss them. At some point I was going to break up and the inevitable would happen – but it mustn't – not yet.

'Sorry,' I mumbled.

'You still feel guilty, don't you?' she accused suddenly, her voice turning to ice, all traces of unhappiness long gone, replaced with a frustrated anger that I knew much too well.

'No,' I lied. 'I already told you, you were right about Elle, you were right when you said that I should be able to move on.' Even I could hear the lack of sincerity in my voice; it was blatantly obvious and stood out like a black cloud in the sky.

_Damn you for not being able to lie properly._

'Then why can't you treat me with even the slightest bit of affability?' she snapped, the anger returning. 'Every time you look at me, you just show nothing less than hostility!' She was right, of course.

'Just… just shut up!' I croaked, and in one small lunge, I shattered everything.

Ana inhaled sharply as my lips collided with hers, it was almost automatic as my arms slipped around her waist, pulling her roughly into my chest. I wasn't entirely sure who had made the first move, it had just… happened. Just like how I'd fallen so helplessly for her – everything about her brought out the worst type of pain inside me – the pain of something isolated, forever out reach.

It felt so wrong, kissing her like this – everything inside me screamed for it to stop – I belonged to Elle, this felt to hideously twisted and immoral.

Suddenly the cramped little cab of the pick-up truck wasn't big enough – I felt my fingers slide roughly through her hair, over her neck, down her spine – she didn't stop me, but we could both sense the guilt that lay heavily between us.

It was only then that I remembered Phil.

**Phil's POV:**

I woke up in a daze – it was much lighter outside and the air bore that cold morning chill of the countryside that I knew so well from childhood. For a moment I was almost sure I was going to wake up as a nine year old in my old house, but the sight of the truck roof above my head brought me back through to reality. I sighed under my breath, trying to find the energy to sit up.

The weight of the awkwardness of the previous day had lifted slightly from my chest and there was a much more positive vibe hovering in the air – almost like a comforting smell, although the only physical scent in the air was of the frosty January landscape outside.

_Things will get better now._

However, as I sat up, I blanched instantly, and the positivity I was clinging to was whipped away and replaced with a deep seated confusion.

Yes, Dan and Ana were still there. The hostility between them had obviously long gone because… Dan was kissing her. She was pressed against the door, eyes closed as Dan's lips moved deftly over her own. It wasn't the first time I'd witnessed Dan kissing someone, but I couldn't say I enjoyed it. A warm blush stole over my cheeks and I felt droplets of perspiration emerge on my forehead – how was I supposed to react to _this_?

It had come out of the blue and hit me in the face like a cold bucket of ice. Dan… Ana…

There was something about her that I just… What, no. I wasn't jealous of Dan, was I?

More importantly, what was I supposed to do now? Neither of them had noticed me yet – should I just say 'good morning' and act like nothing had happened or pretend to continue sleeping? No, I wasn't going to do that – I hated being excluded from things and they could have at least waited until they were away from me to start making out.

A headache began to pulse behind my eyes, making it hard to distinguish between which limbs belonged to Dan and which belonged to Ana. Slowly, they seemed to die down a little, Dan's lips wavering to a stop.

Suddenly, he froze.

I paled again – he could sense me there, watching. Frozen to the spot, every muscle in my body taught with shock, I watched, transfixed with embarrassment as he turned.

It was far too late to look away as his brown, guilt filled eyes connected with mine, cheeks flushing a dark strawberry crimson. For a moment we both stared at each other, Ana still coiled under his distracted embrace on the other side of him.

His expression was masked by a plastic layer of regret, guilt and desperation. I didn't want to know what emotions lay in my eyes.

There was only one thing I knew. I had to get out. Leave. Leave this cramped cab as fast as I could.

Flinging open the door, I tumbled outside, already running.


	20. Chapter 20

**Dan's POV:**

Every single emotion I'd ever experienced was pounding through my head in a river of thoughts – Phil had seen me – what the hell did he think of me now? I hadn't even meant to kiss her, especially not for so long; it had just been a one off - a rush of adrenalin that had sent my actions astray. How was I going to explain it to Phil? Particularly after he looked at me like that…

What was that emotion I'd seen in his eyes…? Embarrassment, definitely – shock, maybe? But there was something else… A small, prying emotion that had resembled jealousy a little too much for me to feel comfortable. What was more, he'd gone – run into the foggy morning mist.

_What if he got lost?_

As calmly as I could manage, I gently removed my arm from around Ana's waist. It felt so wrong now – the quick flash of romance I'd felt was long gone, replaced with a throbbing sense of doubt and guilt that wanted to rip every limb I owned away from her. I loved Elle, not _her_.

But even as I did so, a strange reluctance was fighting the urge to leave her – I quickly reburied it, trying to will it away as fast as I could.

'Ana,' I mumbled pathetically. 'I'll be back in a minute – I need to go, I've lost-' I stopped abruptly. _No time. I have to go after him._ 'It doesn't matter – I won't be a minute.'

Blearily, she looked up at me with those infuriatingly alluring frost-blue eyes, pushing black tangles of hair from her temple. 'What… Dan, wait…'

I didn't hear the end of her sentence; I'd already leapt from the cab onto the unforgiving frosty ground, my feet splintering the ice coating over the tarmac. In under a second, I was running.

I couldn't even see Phil anymore – his fleeting grey form had vanished, leaving only footprints in the squished ice on the grass by the layby. In an adrenalin soaked frenzy, I scoured the area around the truck – there was a stile next to the hedge that lined the road – the frost had been disturbed on it with obvious foot marks, newly sliced through the layer of translucent ice.

Vaulting over the flimsy, greying wood, I sprinted over the frozen ground, feet pounding, head throbbing, thoughts exploding.

_What if he got lost, hurt even?_

After all, if there was one thing I couldn't live without, it was Phil, and already the panic was beginning to brew inside my chest. He'd been there by my side for so long now, what was I supposed to do if I lost him? That was something I didn't want to think about, let alone to become a reality.

_Dan, you're overreacting – he's fine, he was just a little unsettled about seeing you with another girl so soon after Elle._

I was lying to myself… again.

Glancing over my shoulder, I was glad to see that Ana wasn't tailing me. Either she'd given up chasing after me, or I'd simply left her behind – right now I didn't care… My brain was already occupied fighting off the inevitable hysteria and worry.

Gradually, my whole body became on fire with the fatigue of sprinting for what felt like hours – every muscle complained, chewing painfully on my willpower every step I took. After a while I felt irrevocably lost in the white frosty landscape. Every cloud above me was the same grey, every hedge I followed round was layered with the same unforgiving frost that burnt through the thin fabric of my sneakers and crept over my toes. Footprints were all that I had to guide me over the grey-ish green expanses of open countryside – even when the rain started to fall, I didn't slow, my exhausted lungs dry and burning.

_Keep running, keep running, keep running, don't stop running._

Still no sign of Phil. Tears began to spill down my cheeks, rapidly icing over in the cold air, only to be replaced by more and more as sobs burst from my lips, again and again, each time the hysteria growing inside me.

I was so far away from the truck now – or at least it felt that way. When I finally gathered enough energy to look over my shoulder, all I could see was unforgiving grey mist, obscuring everything in its path.

I kept running.

The faint drops of rain began to grow, increase in their number until I was drenched. As every raindrop fell it seemed to ease just a little more hope from me – by the time the rain was sheeting, I was on the ground, sobbing into the frozen soil. Suddenly, the rain slamming water down on my back didn't matter anymore – neither did the strange blue hue that was creeping onto my fingers. It didn't matter that I was cold, hungry or aching – I wanted Phil there beside me.

It was then that the hysteria really struck – the brewing feeling in my chest burst and overflowed. I howled, scarring the frost as I dragged my fingernails over the ground. I was lost. Scared. Alone. Any sense of control I had long since lost, the world around me shook and blurred like a mirage, a dream – nothing seemed solid or real, even the ground beneath my feet seemed to collapse in on itself, bursting into invisibility as I staggered to my feet.

_I NEED YOU PHIL._

_ Help me, come back, come back, I need you here with me, help me, help me, help me-_

'Dan!'

Someone was running towards me – I stared through the streams of rainwater and tears that was running down my face, trying to depict the face through the blur of panic and the streaks of relentless rain. Was it Phil? The hair was black like Phil's… As the figure ran closer to me I saw the eyes – blue like Phil's – they _were_ Phil's eyes.

But it wasn't Phil, it was… Ana.

I was still screaming Phil's name, louder, louder – I didn't want Ana, I wanted Phil to come and find me – I needed his reassurance, not Ana's-

'Dan, what the fuck are you doing?' I heard her shout through the storm. She was close to me now, running towards me; before I could react, she'd yanked me into a hug.

A rush of mixed emotions overtook me – I liked it but… I didn't. It was almost as though Phil was hugging me, reassuring me as I howled into her shoulder, the rain pounding over my face, cutting off the majority of my sight.

But no – it was wrong, of course it was wrong – the embrace was wrong. I wanted Phil – no, I wanted Elle – no I… I didn't even know what I wanted anymore. I fought from her grasp, slashing blindly at her with my fingers.

_Get away, get away, get away,_

'Don't touch me!' I screamed, staggering backwards, the world blurring and sliding sideways in my confused vision. 'PHIL, WHERE'S PHIL?' I shrieked, my voice tearing from my throat, raw and untethered.

Ana was staring at me, a look of hurt confusion on her rain-streaked face. I only vaguely registered the thick black lines of makeup streaming down her cheeks as I moaned raggedly at the empty space around me.

Her lips were moving, she was trying to tell me something, but I wasn't listening, couldn't listen, instead I just stood there, crying into my palms, unable to stop.

I felt her hands try and find mine, but I pushed her away thoughtlessly, uncontrollably. 'Get off me – go away, get away!' Through the cracks between my fingers I watched pitifully as she stood there, confusion and hurt vibrant in her eyes.

'But… but you kissed me!' she shouted through the rain, our faces now only inches apart, rain pouring into our eyes, down my throat, choking over my words.

'It was nothing!' I screamed, seizing her shoulders and shaking her more violently than I intended. 'I didn't mean it! I've never meant it!' For a second we glared at each other, her eyes burning into mine with cold blue anger and betrayal – I knew both emotions far too closely.

After a moment of quiet, the only sounds that of the rainstorm, she ripped my hands away from her shoulders, hair whipping around her face in the gale. 'So it was just… just a meaningless fling, was it?'

I stamped down on the ice. 'NO! Just go away-'

Then she slapped me in the face.

Hard.

A burning sensation ripped through my drenched skin, the water seeping into the now scorching skin on my right cheek. I wasn't sure if it was the pain or just the infuriation and frenzy of losing Phil that was making my vision deteriorate even further, but huge black spots of ink seemed to appear in the rain and I stumbled backwards, the world spinning uncontrollably around me.

Then I… I slapped her back… and blood erupted from her nose.


	21. Chapter 21

**Phil's POV:**

I could hear screaming – a lot of screaming, cutting through the rain like a carving knife, relentless and helpless. I stopped, letting the rain pour down my collar, down my back, sending more shivers through me. The gale whipped my hair over my face as I tried to look through the storm, desperately trying to locate the source of the agonizing sounds, but the rain was too heavy, too dense for me to even try and see through.

'Stupid, Phil. Why'd you have to run away?' I breathed, my voice lost in the storm.

It would have been a lot less horrifying if they were just screams, plain screams to which I could put no name. But they weren't. They were Dan's screams, I could figure that much out - heartbroken, miserable, raw sounds that if I was totally honest, broke a little piece of my heart away.

The idiot. He'd come and looked for me of course and he'd panicked… Of course he had; just as I would have done without him. Just as I was now, hearing him screaming like this.

What was happening to him? Where was he? In fact, where was anything…?

'Dan!' I yelled, to no effect. My voice was drowned in the storm and the howling continued, burning my ears with the worst type of fire.

I ran blindly forward, stumbling through the rain, the wind pulling at everything from my hair to my legs as I sprinted towards the pitiful sound. The shrieks suddenly stopped, and everything stopped - including my heart.

Then the sobbing started. Hoarse, raw sobs, cutting through the rain. It was definitely Dan, I knew the sound of his tears and this was most unquestionably it. Blindly running towards the crying, it seemed to grow louder and louder, until two dark figures broke through the fog. Abruptly, the hunched over figure, who I assumed was Dan as only a few seconds ago had been crying into their hands, made a move for the other…

The slap echoed through the empty plain, across the grass, making me flinch as it reached my ears.

I looked again at the figure opposite Dan. Well, it now seemed to be dripping, melting with a dark liquid that issued like black treacle from its face.

The relief that had smothered me in finding Dan seemed to trickle slowly away, replaced with blind confusion, fear and something else. The dripping figure… well, it had to be Ana, and as I drew silently closer, I realised that the dripping substance was her blood.

'Dan, what the hell are you doing?' I yelled, running towards them. The figure who I assumed was Dan turned violently and hurtled towards me, flinging himself into my arms. I stumbled backwards as Dan wept uncontrollably into my already soaking shoulder, holding him as he cowered, shaking violently. The relief sunk in again. I had Dan back with me, I could feel safe again.

Then I remembered Ana – well, the person that from a distance looked like her.

I also remembered what Dan had done to her, and I let him go, unsure whether I was disgusted with him or just confused as to why he had done it.

'Ana!' I cried, pushing Dan's confused, sobbing form away. She'd fallen to the icy grass, clutching her nose in desperation as blood fell freely through her fingers.

After that, I wasn't sure what happened. Suddenly all I cared about was protecting her – even if it meant guarding her from Dan, my best friend. She was hurt, she needed help, and she needed _my _help – not Dan's, not anyone else's.

'Phil,' she croaked, choking on the blood that had fallen into her mouth. Our eyes linked as she panted, blood sliding from what I thought was her nose. How could Dan have done this to her? It hurt to think of him in that way – someone who inflicted deliberate pain. He'd never been like that before and my head ached trying to accept what had happened.

'Help me, please.' she breathed.

'Dan did this to you…' I murmured, transfixed with something that resembled adrenalin and horror all in one. I didn't want to admit it, but right there and then, I detested Dan with every nerve in my brain.

_I can't believe he could do this._

'It was my fault, though.' she muttered through now gritted teeth. 'Have you got… handkerchief or- '

Then I felt something fall into me from behind, still crying hopelessly. It was Dan, of course, but at that moment I couldn't have wished to see anyone less. He stumbled down beside me, clutching onto my shoulder. I shook him off roughly.

'Why did you do it, Dan?' I snapped, glowering at his tear streaked face.

'I'm sorry,' he begged pathetically. 'I didn't mean- '

I was going to pursue the issue, but… in under a second, Dan was lying face down on the ground, completely unconscious.


	22. Chapter 22

**Dan's POV:**

Everything ached when I resurfaced to cold, harsh daylight that seemed to intermittently change pattern on the grey surface above me, almost like sunlight reflected off water. Something was growling in the background and it took a while for my slow, bleary senses to figure out where I was and how exactly I'd come to be there.

Tiny, painful flashes came tumbling back uncontrollably in my mind – running after Phil, the blood from Ana's nose after I'd slapped her across the face, Phil pushing me away as if I was no more important than a troublesome fly, falling hopelessly down next to my best friend as he glared at me with such a hatred that I had never thought I would see in those eyes.

Everything was so fresh and ready to be reawakened in my memory. The only legible thought I could make out from the confusion of pain and guilt rotating around in my brain was that Phil hated me.

_Phil hates me._

_Phil hates me._

_Phil hates me._

I choked back a sob. If I was in the pick-up then Ana and Phil would be there with me and from what I could decipher of the memories from my previous span of consciousness, they'd seen too much of my stupid, immature crying already. I didn't want a repeat.

'You okay?'

I blinked, trying to remind my burnt out brain of whose voice was whose. Eventually I decided it was Phil's and it hurt me to accept the lack of emotion in those two, faceless words.

I nodded and attempted to sit up. Ana was driving, her nose clear of blood, staring adamantly out of the windscreen so that I could only see a tiny proportion of her face. I was grateful of this – I didn't want to be at the receiving end of her penetrating glare. Phil was sitting in between me and Ana, looking coldly down at me. I flinched under his gaze, searching for the usual cheerful warmth in the blue of his eyes.

It stung when I couldn't find it.

Why was he so angry at me? Was it really just because I'd slapped Ana…? It wasn't like they even knew each other – why the hell was he acting so protectively over her? The questions rotated dizzyingly around in my bewildered head, making my attempts to lose the lingering feeling of sleep even harder than usual.

'I'm- I'm sorry,' I started uselessly, trying to keep the discomfort from my voice.

Phil looked darkly across at me again – the strange anger in his eyes was plain to see and I felt something cut out inside me.

It was fairly evident that no matter how many times I apologised, I wasn't going to get anywhere, but something had to be done to make up for my stupid actions. Also, Ana slapped me first, so it wasn't completely my fault.

As I sat in silence, trying to figure out what to do, I felt something cold and rectangular nudge my fingertips.

'Your Mum called,' Phil stated dully, not even bothering to make eye contact with me. 'A lot. I told her you'd call her back and explain why you haven't arrived on her doorstep yet.'

Groaning, I took the phone from him. Now, on top of everything else that had happened, I was going to have to face my extremely flustered, probably still bitter Mum and explain why I was a day late and was also going to appear with a girl that none of us knew that well and I had a large problem with.

I dialled her number apprehensively.

For most of the conversation or more accurately 'shouting match', I dialled out, barely listening to what she was yelling at me. That was only until I brought Ana's presence up in the exchange. There was a long, tense silence. I sensed both Phil and Ana tense up next to me, all of our breathing taught and quiet.

I winced, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

'Who even is Ana Everitt for god's sake? You can't bring all your friends along – isn't Phil enough for you, Daniel?'

Wincing at her sarcastic tone, I looked across at Phil and Ana. Neither of them looked as though they were going to help me in any way. Ana registered my gaze and glowered across at me, all traces of her makeup wiped away, giving her a childish vulnerability that made something flutter in my chest. I clenched my teeth and looked away, determined not to make that mistake again.

What was I supposed to say about her…? That we'd just picked her off the side of the road? I mean we had done exactly that – I barely knew her name.

Okay and I'd kissed her and… and I liked her.

There, I admitted it-

'DANIEL!' I flinched as my Mum's voice hurtled down the phone line. 'Are you going to answer my question?'

'Yes, yes, sorry.' I said, flustered and uncomfortable. My 'best friend' and Ana remained silent, both trying to ignore the difficulty of the situation and abandoning the confusion on me.

'Daniel, who is she? And why did you bring her? I'm not having strange women in my house!'

'My name is DAN! I'm not five anymore.' I snapped. Then… Then in the spur of the moment, I dropped my next stupid bombshell.

'Mum… Ana Everitt is my girlfriend.'


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **

Guys – all the reviews! I am SO happy you're enjoying this so far and it's so lovely to get emails telling me that one of you has written a comment. Seriously, it's great to be appreciated and I feel like you're all actually liking this so far, which for me as the author, is a really nice position to be in.

Oh and I thought I'd say – if you don't like something about this story, please tell me because constructive criticism is really useful, believe it or not. If you think there is something genuinely wrong with a certain aspect of the story, then PLEASE let me know, because I want this story to be good and not boring or tedious to read.

But seriously guys! You're all awesome. Keep the feedback coming because there are LOADS of chapters coming up – I just need to post them in bite-size chunks so I don't overwhelm you.

Thank you!

Anonfangirling

….

**Dan's POV:**

'You told her that I was your girlfriend.' Ana burst out as soon as I terminated the call to my Mum. I looked across at her. She was glaring ahead at the road, eyes burning. 'You're fucking lucky I'm driving you little shit- '

'What the hell was I supposed to say?' I snarled, cutting her off mid-threat. 'If you had a better bloody idea, then you could have told me!'

'Dan, Ana, can you please take it down a few notches- '

'NO!'

Phil cowered back into the seat, holding up his hands in mock arrest. 'Okay, well if you both end up killing each other then don't blame me.'

'First you fucking kiss me, then you fucking tell me you hate me and practically break my goddamn-fucking nose and then you tell your motherfucking parents I'm your fucking girlfriend you little cunt – make your fucking mind up!'

'Ana, it wasn't his fault exactly- '

'Yes it was- '

'Okay it was all Dan's fault- '

'No it wasn't- '

The car jarred to an abrupt, unexpected stop and I felt half my insides shift significantly as I was jerked forwards. Scraping the handbrake up, Ana flung open the door of the car.

'Get out the truck.'

I felt my cheeks grow pale. 'What?'

'You heard me,' she said, unfastening her safety belt in a series of violent jerks. 'Get out the fucking truck.'

'Please don't injure each other again-' Phil begged, slumping down in his seat, looking despairingly from me to Ana.

'I probably deserve it anyway,' I muttered, watching as Ana stormed around the truck, black hair flying around her shoulders. Momentarily, I had to remind myself that we hated each other – she looked cute even without the makeup, her eyes making the rest of her face almost disappear.

My door was flung open and clenching my t-shirt between her fingers, she pulled me briskly from the car into the bright white morning. I stumbled and we both staggered out into the (luckily) quiet lane.

For someone of her slight, almost unnaturally thin build, she was quite strong, I realised, as she aimed a punch for my face. I ducked automatically, although I probably did deserve what was coming.

I wanted to fight back, but- but somehow, for some stupid, sentimental reason, I couldn't… It felt wrong to physically hurt someone that… well, I liked so impossibly much. Ana was beautiful; it would stupid of me to deny that… And, well, I liked her…

Her sarcasm, smile, and the way both her cheeks dimpled perfectly when she smiled. Even admitting this in my head as she aimed relentless profanities and prospective injuries at me, I couldn't hit her back – not anymore.

'Too scared to fight back, huh?' she shouted, anger consuming her features. I wanted to see her smile – I wanted her eyes to warm to that Caribbean-sea blue I'd seen in them as we'd initially met on the road, before I'd gone and messed everything up.

'Ana please stop, I'm sorry!' I begged, my muscles clenching up as finally one of her well-aimed punches fell straight to my stomach. Another blow to the shoulder and I was on my back on the floor.

'I. Am. Not. Your. Girlfriend.' She yelled, kicking me in the shin at each word. I struggled to a sitting position, resting my elbows on the hard tarmac. It stung, I couldn't deny it, both physically and mentally – she practically broke every heartstring I owned, rather than just plucking at them like any normal girl.

'Okay, guys can we just-' I heard Phil walk towards us, his footsteps slow and cautious as if approaching wild animals. Well… it wasn't too dissimilar.

'Not now, Phil!'

'Yes, now, Phil!' I croaked. 'No, Ana stop- Fuck THAT FUCKING HURT-'

Eventually, Phil somehow managed to coax Ana away from my slow, grim meal of pain and practically guided her back to the truck. For a few dizzy moments, propped painfully up on my elbows, I watched them walk away from me, Phil's arms protectively cupped around Ana's shoulders.

Fighting the cloud of thick jealousy, I mentally placed myself in Phil's position, wishing I could be the one holding her, comforting her. But then my imagination seemed to disintegrate and crumble like a yellowing image in an old newspaper – it was most prominently not me with Ana. I was lying down alone on the ground with the imprint of Ana's knuckles decorating my chest. Ana didn't like me back – she never would.

_Why can't my mind just shut the fuck up sometimes._

Still weighed down with jealousy, I peeled myself from the tarmac and half-limped back into the truck again, where we all sat in a tense, almost painful silence for the rest of the journey.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's note: I'm sure Dan's Mum is LOVELY really, but for the sake of the story I need her to be a bit OTT… No offence meant Dan… or Dan's Mum, if you're reading, very much hoping you aren't.

**Phil's POV:**

Dan and Ana's 'relationship' was put horrifically to the test as soon as we arrived at Dan's parents and stepped stiffly from the stuffy, tense interior. It was in the early afternoon, and Dan's Mum came plummeting from her front door and yanked Dan into a huge motherly hug, in which Dan struggled uncomfortably, blushing.

'Daniel! Oh you've grown so much- '

'Yes Mum, I'm twenty two now, I thought we were past this…' Dan muttered, gently removing himself from her almost crushing embrace.

As Dan's Mum's eyes drifted from Dan's slightly dead countenance to Ana and me, standing awkwardly apart, her smile became slightly forced and a little bewildered.

'Ah, hello Phil, good to see you as always… And, you are Ana, Dan's… erm… new girlfriend I suppose?' she asked curiously, eyeing her up as if she'd just crawled from a dumpster. I followed her gaze. Ana looked a little bedraggled from last night's rain - her top was stained with a mixture of blood and mud and her face lacked any sign of makeup… and her hair was slightly, well, everywhere. As was mine and Dan's; particularly Dan's, as he'd spent most of his morning being beaten up by his very angry 'girlfriend'.

'Yes, I'm Dan's girlfriend.' Ana said stiffly, the words unnatural and forced coming from her grudging lips.

I kicked her lightly and hissed, 'Look a bit happier,'

She forced the most appallingly fake smile over her lips, looking almost scary. 'Nice to meet, you Mrs…erm…. Howell.'

Dan's Mum nodded, looking a little confused.

'Sorry about the um…' I gestured vaguely to Dan, then me, then Ana. 'We broke down by a field… and the field had… um… mud in it.'

I felt Ana bite back an almost mocking laugh next to me, and Dan glowered at her. I sighed at them both.

'Well, you can get washed up inside, can't you. Now come on in before we all freeze to death.' Dan's Mum said, disappearing into the house.

Sitting with Dan's Mum and Dad, Dan and Ana in the most awkward, painful silence I'd ever endured, was probably one of the most horrific things I'd ever done. There was no comfortable and socially acceptable seating position on Dan's parent's immaculate cream sofa – every cushion felt like a rock jabbing into my back, along with the tense silence that was rapidly running its long painful course.

For too long to be comfortable, no one said anything until Dan's Mum made it ten times worse and dropped a bomb on the awkwardness, neither improving the situation or making it any worse.

'So, how long have you two been together?' she asked, gesturing to Dan and Ana.

'Oh… you know, for a bit.' Dan shrugged, laughing shakily. He and Ana were sat next to each other, neither of them looking particularly passionate or happy about the other's presence. Ana was just staring into space, trying to avoid contact with Dan as much as she possibly could, and deliberately acting completely unnaturally.

As much as I was annoyed with Dan, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Ana was making it no easier for him to get away with the whole 'couple' act.

He caught my eye, pleading me silently to do something. As discretely as I could, I mimicked hugging someone and he nodded gratefully. Act the couple as much as possible. What else could he do? Although as he forced his arm around Ana's reluctant shoulders, I felt another stab of that weird, almost protective jealousy and had to stop myself from glaring at them.

I wanted to walk right over there and rip his arm away from her – but… _No, shut up Phil._

Breaking the moment of my almost uncontrollable jealously, Dan's Dad seemed to sense the discomfort in the thick, heavily perfumed air of the cottage and suggested that Dan go and make some tea. Feeling a little guilty, I rushed out of the room after him, feeling Ana's eyes burning into my departing figure.


End file.
